Everything's old, and then it gets new again.
The old isn't bad, but it's not what we want.
My mother says old is just new with old clothes on.
But even kids know what the old cannot be.
My eyes see themselves and wish they saw new things.
But once you are new, you start growing old.
So why not indulge them and show them some new things,
Things that are so old they've just sprung anew.
It's good to be old but only if we are.
The young want the old to seem newer than they.
And "new" doesn't mean the same thing as "living".
Life is a thing that lives where it wants.
Our hearts they are born old. Their jobs require patience.
And still they are filled with a light at the new.
A light like the sky, like a feather not sinking,
When you show your heart something so old it's new.
How did it feel making new things that olden
Into great big new things at which hearts take delight.
Did new things back then seem to live in a new way
That made them expect that they'd live again soon?
I hope that they knew that their love for their new thing
Would clutch at my heart despite being old.
Or maybe because it was old, it "became" for me,
"Becoming" like I did when I first turned old.
I think that I see in their bright black-white new thing,
The shimmering life that is me when I'm old.
This poem's about new things that used to be old,
That used to be new things, so loved and so few.