It was under this ancient ocean of a sky
beside a sun dried wind whipped dying
old oak, youth finally bid me farewell,
what to be its replacement I could not tell.
...
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A fresh angle on this nostalgic theme. I've enjoyed it, Vincey. I'd enjoy it more though if there was consistency in the rhyme and meter. I also feel that the last section could be converted into a four-liner along with the others. I mean this constructively, Vincey. Best wishes, Gina.
Very very nice Vincent. A melancholy poem, reminiscing, but one can never go back, only forwards. Thoroughly enjoyed it. Love Ernestine XXX