Where are the poets of my youth,
who knew the power of rhyme?
They opened doors of life for me,
enchanted with their imagery
and ennobled man's humanity;
It was a better time.
Now, they choose to write in free verse,
free from substance, style and rhyme
and I get lost along the way,
intent on what they mean to say;
I yearn for yesterday, today
and the harmony of that time.
Please pardon this 90 year old, still lingering
in the long gone years of ageless poetry.