Thoughts of a young child run free,
As though in a field of flowers.
A creek slithering past,
Quickly out the fingertips of us.
Thoughts running evermore freely,
Now older, slightly more wise.
School and family more on mind,
No need for the odd thoughts now.
But still as innocent as a deer in a field.
Teenage thinking, ever confusing to all,
Quite a bit more wise, though,
Emotions run wild, tracks in their wake.
Love talking hold, acting as tides,
In and out, in and out; high and low, high and low.
Thoughts only about money and a job,
Much more wiser than before.
Emotions in check most of the time,
Love fighting, still raging oceans.
But it's a tragic thing to have,
Much like a flame, described as sparks.
It's hard to find and when lost it can kill.
Thoughts forever frozen, never moving,
The body invaded with wood and dirt,
Never moving, the soul snuffed out, a small flame, it was.
Not old enough to experience all of life,
Her living warmth and lies.
But ready to experience death,
His cold and cruel truth.
They are, after all, small flames.
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So, I wrote this poem that life will move on even when we die, when a friend or family member dies... That the world will continue moving and the universe will go on as if nothing happened. Depressing but true.