Last night my heart was touched,
with a gift beyond compare.
Lilacs scent drifting in the wind,
while birds composed the evening song.
The gentle caress with loving care,
upon my face of the summer breeze.
The pastel colors from The painters brush,
as they flowed across the sky.
I closed my eyes and remembered
the summers that have been.
The rains as sweet as apple cider,
night skies filled with popcorn stars.
Of bright colored kites pirouetting
as they danced with the wind.
My mind was flooded with memories,
as I opened up my eyes.
I saw you standing there.

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By Joseph Chervenak

The eyes
of children
see the mysteries
that create the world.
Things unknown, yet to learn,
the tiniest of changes mesmerizes.
Intrigue, curiosity, and exploration,
one after another as new things appear.
Their eyes, glowing with great excitement of
this new found knowledge, gaze out at the world.
See this.
Feel this.
Smell this.
Is it real?
Is this true?
Days flow into years,
ever the knowledge grows.
Then slowly the glow changes.
Discoveries come farther apart.
Now seldom do their eyes question;
What was once a great event now common.
Much older, much wiser, the eyes slowly dull.
Was this?
Will this?
Why is this?
They begin to ask.
Now with age comes fewer
fascinating wonders to find.
No longer captivated, they weary
of what were once, treasures found.
Now with age they glaze, turn and look
at the young - suddenly they comprehend.
In the eyes of the young are the mysteries
of the world. In the eyes of the aged are the
answers.