There are notebooks in my room – some are half empty, whilst others hardly have a space left in them. Truth be told, its more the former than the latter, but they are being filled, slowly if not steadily.
Some of the entries as i have mentioned before, are fragments which i write at random, and use where i see fit.
Some of them are short pieces on their own right.
This particular piece, if I remember correctly was written after a long day of perusing Keats ( one of my favourite poets) .
Keats reoccurring themes of beauty, how it faded, and how nothing ever lasted forever, fascinated me, and this short piece is a result of said fascination.
I imagine, if nothing else, i could call this an Ode to Keats, but for now; its untitled.
And if truth be told,
As we all know it must
Beauty has grace
And poor love, is its folly
But Beauty must fade
Leaving but a ghost of grace
Grey and withered, Beauty’s champion
Now in steady decline
Love has none of this,
its companions saved of beauty’s decline
young forever, joyfully biding their time