loss of youth by Clem Peterson

loss of youth
he’s down there, by the sea.
remembering days of kisses on the hill, outlooking
​  their sun-and-cloud-kissed kites and the sullen silent
romances between the sky and the sea.

he’s stranded in sorrows.
barefoot on forgotten pebbles, waiting for the current to
  take away whatever is left of him.
he’s stranded in a place that is at a loss of words within
  itself. 

and he thinks that after all that time lying on that
  windy-white-capped hill, made him stiff.

he has given his humiliated, guilty congratulations 
  to those who were close to the ones near their end.
remembering that the sun never sets in the memories 
that are never to be felt or lived again other than in the
  worst disease to be spread among men; nostalgia.

he reminds those to open the cracked-stained windows.
to let the young love-sick souls finally escape the
  prison of this world.
while also teaching himself and taming his addiction to
  life by reminiscing of how
   we’re all surrounded by ghosts, 
we’ve just got to learn to live with them.