No one tells us when we’re young
That we’ll end up so old
Life’s an endless game of fun
We play all brash and bold
But soon we heard rumors
That life was not a game
And things that we all knew
Just will not stay the same
Later on we catch a peek
Of what life has in store:
Wrinkled hands and bones that creak
One gray hair, then some more
Aches and pains felt now and then
Too soon they take their toll
Then we just sit and think of when
Our shoes had much more sole
This poem made me smile. I had a great-aunt who loved to remind me and my siblings that we wouldn't always be young and that we were probably wasting most of our youth. Being young we didn't listen anyway - lol!
ReplyDeleteSo so true Eric...you have defined it so very well and I love the last line of your poem. Have a great weekend my friend xx
ReplyDeletei refuse to grow old...at least in how i act...
ReplyDeleteGrowing old can come as a bit of a surprise.
ReplyDelete