In due season, the yesteryears
of what once youth could be:

—I've been young in love
—an old soul, but of a young heart

Like as a child likens their time to being
plenty as when the sun is in their eyes
Our youthful days have come to set,
a flower in the skins of being a beautiful
fragile being

I'd be like you see of my nature,
twisting to sun of my creator
We are all beautiful flowers—
in the grounds of time, and life
Planted with purpose; we grow, we live,
wither off, and eventually die

                           ~This is all our lives