Time and aging

after a while, every tree becomes barren.
every love tires out and soon, hate will swear in.
we move from six to twelve
and right from twelve, we delve.
it won’t be long before we start to lose skin.

sweet things sweet no more. they begin to bitter.
the beauty in gold starts to lose its glitter.
it is quarter past three
in twenty ninety three.
and age will only reset our transmitter.

leonell echa