Life took me by the hand today.
Led me to meet his oldest associate,
But not before visiting Youth.
A boy, as unscented as withered blooms,
Untouched by colour, save for heavy greys.
Lacking light from his eyes.
Cold vision, registering nothing.
He had recently greeted Life’s comrade,
Clammy hugs smothering him.
We moved on to the farthest shadows,
Which my companion’s friend called home.
Kissing my cheek, with stale breath,
He told me Life was not my ally.
Briefly, we argued, and I was gone.