He Was Young Poem by Naveed Akram

He was young and handsome in degrees,
He cried at length, persevered with childishness;
These ladders struck me dimmer than dusk,
Without him I stood and restored my youth,
Like a fountain on the mountain called life and ruin.

He was yesterday a builder of whining pleasure,
Fancying the secret stress, the pains of normality;
He wanted more taste than food from France,
Underneath a goal of the higher men and women,
Like youth he betrayed the old men of the western sides.