Naive Seventeen
When you sung songs of naïve seventeen
No chord was struck, nor one thought rewritten
For love so young, surely, it was extreme
And left small hearts yet deceived and broken
For hope of love shrouded in the naïve—
No thought, I had, of such hope striking me
Yet now, I feel, if I dare to believe
That hope like such can sweet and thrilling be.
Hope, so dumb, how dare it be so honeyed?
For though it scares me, hearts that pound too fast,
Perhaps I can learn to enjoy that speed?
I know these foolish heart beats may not last
As dazzling sheen lasts not on jewelry—
Though, what will last longer than poetry?
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