Poem

When the heart is young and eyes are fresh

We see the lying surface

The sky as blue as new born eyes

And oceans clear like glass

The sun an artists golden brush

The moon its cover sheet

But the heart grows still

And the eyes do fail

Failing see further than fresh

The fish caught in the waters waste

And the blisters in the skin

And the horrors of the night

We see it all

in the failing sight