This is a poem about going for a walk that leads to reflection on youth’s cruel ebb, being devastated by it and then humbly coming to terms with the injustices of fate.

An almost Spring day

With a wander to the yonder

In the open and raw air

Summer in waiting

While winter persists

In pushing brisk

Returning fresh and flushed

To glance upon a mirror for such a rush

Only to find a new furrow there

Deeply canyon-ed on the brow

Oh, Youth. Dear Youth!

Please

Do not escape me!

Take this as an oath

A promise to moisturise

Daily

Twice too

Thrice even if you think it’ll help

From this very moment forth

For the glory and vitality of dear beautiful Youth!

Though not the beer

You can’t have the beer

That’s mine

Can fuck right off

With all and any thoughts of taking that

Or the gin

Just fuck off beautiful Youth

Be gone

Craggy-faced juniper-upped old hopster

Here I come

Thanks for reading 🙂

N. P. Ryan.

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