Growing old is slow, a gradual ache
Growing up is quick, a sudden sting
Romance is a young man’s game
They say it's magic will cling
To give it time, to give it space
Because pulling can tear strings
The dance of romance isn't the youth it sings
It’s holding someone's strings when they ache
It’s wearing strength on your face when it stings
Romance burns bright, but it’s love that tenders to the flame
My first A.I. asisted poem, written with the help of ChatGPT. The image was made using NightCafe
Comments