Do you remember being seventeen,
That disregard for death
Which only happened to other folk
And not to us? I do.
Not believing that our breath
would ever stop
Or that a world could still exist
If we did not.
Go to that place inside yourself
Where you are still seventeen.
Take all the fears you’ve learned since then
And let them go.
Gentle, the kiss of the dark on your lips
Can tempt you to sleep
But remember when darkness was passion and dance
And far from gentle.
Notes: today’s prompt was to write a poem which began and ended with the same word. That seemed a little too simple, so I came up with this. (It was going to be longer, and may become so later, but I think it works as it is.)