Poem By Greg Young
There was not one piece of your beauty that God failed in-
as if you were put here for no purpose-but proof.
I misused so many moments of our November
when you asked me
to be more than a boy
but I was a boy,
a quite a boy.
Fearless and Cunning and Kingly.
I'm sure your curves have changed
this many year gone,
and I'm not that fearless anymore,
but I still look
for the arch of your brow
in every woman that passes-