Roy Moore, et al
When young we bare naiveté,
pardoned from most rules we stray.
But once full grown, the sins we own
and wear until we’re old and gray.
Even though score years have passed
since all new sins have been amassed,
those scars forever you adorn,
and ever limn your adult past.
{God knows...no
matter how you blow your horn.}
Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.
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