Poem: Young, too young

Young, too young,
his young tender hands trace the walls
and the hinges of doors he wishes to fix
but he has no strength or drive,
his hands are soft and they bare no calluses
he doesn’t have grip, no

Young, too young
his eyes youthful, bright,
he watches the world through them
taking in the sea, and the breeze
that he cannot see,
but his eyes have no depth
they carry no turmoil or loss
.he doesn’t have vision.

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