A POEM

A poem’s a story to be told
Of young romance for hearts to hold.
Of days gone by and heros bold,
The summer heat, the winter cold.
A word or two that’s meant to scold
A realm of beauty to unfold.
So wise and kind it tries to mold
More priceless than the purest gold.
It’s the victory beat when drums are rolled
It’s a treasure meant for young and old.