An Ode to Dorian

The thin skin of time.

Self-deceiving words hold youth?

Root down to grow up.

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The Dawn of Hebe

The Dawn of Hebe

I am ready, Geras, grow me up.
This fight was good, but I tire of longing for him to see the dawn of Hebe in my eyes.

With courage I take on this new found fame, but will recall in constant the days when my lips were sweet with cups of nectar.
When my skin was fragrant from baths of ambrosia.
When love and passion were waisted on a fickle youth.
A time so young, I could have called him mine.

I am ready, Geras, grow me up.
For I have put my love and youth into the wrong heart.
And today I rejoice in finally seeing the dawn of Hebe in my own eyes.

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