804. O fleeting youth, thy golden, blushing flame,

SONNET 804
By JH Sayyar
O fleeting youth, thy golden, blushing flame,
Thy laughter echoed sweet in morning's light,
Now the winds grow still, no more the same,
And twilight paints thee pale before the night.
Where they step danced on summer's breeze,
Now you walk slowly upon the autumn's trail.
The mirror holds your face in soft unease,
Each year inscribed like verse upon the veil.
Yet do not mourn the roses that must fall,
For petals feed the earth with gentle grace.
In fading lies the noblest truth of all—
That beauty’s soul outlives its youthful face.

So age with peace, let memory be thy flame,
For hearts once young, in time, still the same.