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.
Youth: 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.