Old Age

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The Bane of My Golden Age

As the years fall fast

As I grow, mature and wise

As my mind reflects and my eyes observe

As my sense and sensibilities crash

 

How I long for lost and youthful years

Of bygone ways and carefree days

Such wonderness and happiness

And bewilderment with absent fears

 

Oh youthful waste

That mantle of recklessness, unmitigated risk

 Such restlessness caught in my nature’s truth

Of a life so sweet, like a nectar’s taste

 

I yearn for a dear adrenalin rush

But fear and hide and cower thus

As excitement breeds its voice in me

I brush aside with knowledge, crushed

 

To live and breathe to life obsessed

To grasp at life’s best gift, dear youth

No worried fears or wayward tears

Just laughter at such foolishness

 

Oh those youthful days not valued much

To a young and restless soul

Why oh why does my knowledge cry

To question such a foolish touch

 

My age brings knowledge and wisdom’s strength

And reflection’s pure judgmental fear

Yet shy from nature’s gift of a life to live

Without the worry and consequential lengths

 

Now, for wisdom’s pure and complex stage

It is wisdom’s curse for all who say:

“How youth is wasted on the young”

Perhaps, but wisdom is the bane of my golden age

 

© John Morrison 2004

 

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