Natasha Kirke

Rookie (2/3/95 / London)

Fifteen Years

Oh, age has come and brought me fifteen years
And perhaps with it,
Joy will come too.
Youth still dances with these years
Its rather short, happy life
Flows among the rocks of age like a river
It counts these rocks every year
So far, it has counted fifteen
More rocks will be collected in the river of youth
It shall count until it becomes no more
Until it has dried up
And leaves the rocks to crack and crumble
Until they too, are no more.

Submitted: Saturday, October 30, 2010

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Comments about this poem (Fifteen Years by Natasha Kirke )

  • Rookie - 104 Points Yash Shinde (3/15/2014 12:13:00 AM)

    .....seems that you'veperfected the modern unrhymed verse.....great work dear (Report) Reply

  • Rookie ian McArthur (12/3/2010 2:43:00 PM)

    stop making me feel oooold. Regardless, nice poem. I'm always afraid to deviate from a rhyme scheme of some sort, but doesn't seem to bother you, in that you make a poem anyway of it. I like the styling. (Report) Reply

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