Colin F. Jones


Of ourselves what do we know,
When youth aspires to fake such fame
That would a gust so vainly blow,
In order to a tempest claim?
While all our senses are entwined,
In self-appraisal and desire,
Too complex yet to be defined,
We fearless fight while full of fire.
Full of fire and eagerness
That war doth soon devour with fear,
Our innocent minds with foul address
That wipes away the first lost tear.
And we return, but youth’s fine fire
Fades like a flame of lost desire.