Young Love | a poem

Young bodies bear young minds, and that gives us strength. 
Our slippery tongues tell old secrets someone else sealed long ago. 
Giddy giggles replace our worries and our fingers find fables in memory.

Love isn't a life sentence; it's a sentence about life. 

We were made for this, the stuff that fills your lungs with bliss. 
Oxygen is an oxymoron;
science means nothing. 

How can you explain emotion? It flows in and out. 
Rainwater in drought, welcomed by us, 
embraced by young bodies. 

(Your face is all I need to see when I wake up to know God is alive; 
when I fall asleep, I know I'll breathe if you're breathing too.) 

Look at these souls; they're magnificent mages who've aged past their time, 
encased in young bodies and young minds. Erasing old dreams, replacing them with new ones. 

Our generation is regenerating.

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