How many dawns <br />have I greeted? <br />How many more <br />Remain for me? <br />Why do I feel <br />the seasons <br />so plainly <br />at this hour? <br />The tingle <br />of colder air <br />brings with it, <br />a haunted mood <br />and half memories <br />of what used to be. <br />Waking up to <br />winter morns, <br />a child raised <br />on a farm. <br />The smell of biscuits <br />cooking, steam <br />from hot oatmeal. <br />I don’t remember <br />aching or dreaming <br />of you. Just the <br />innocence of youth. <br />The innocence of youth.<br /><br />Emma Beverage<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/innocence-of-youth/
