Old Words Poem by Naveed Akram

The old words are like ‘yes’,
But old is old when gold and ancient;
Silver slivers to the tongue
As oldness breezes past with automatic
Kindness, and regard for the polite
Enters and enters.

Before we donned the pages
Of our youth, the oldness precociously
Beheld the eggs of Neverland,
One gel is of kind helpings,
Mountains often dangerously confine
Us with sizes and sights
Of indignant majesty.

Kings of the knights stage
Their requests into each other.
Yes! We ask of the sustenance
And always to cure us in some way.

In a sense, the parting of arguments
Involves a day of delight.
Memories of you see seeds of demanding
Aspects that we weirdly proffer.