A sonnet
When young, they knew the word as something else
As times change, though, I know so do the words
Like water to ice, love becomes solid
A supernatural grip on the youth
The sun sets on romance hopelessly now
Love is not as solid as we had thought
Deep beneath the surface was a sliver
Of deceit that would not be recognized
Until much later when it hurt much more
Except, to them it was a quiet game
A symphony that declared honest love
An explosion of the eternal heart
Which, mind you, was fragile to begin with
Now old, they know the word as something else.
