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 dayWith a wander to the yonderIn the open and raw airSummer in waitingWhile winter persistsIn pushing briskReturning fresh and flushedTo glance upon a mirror for such a rushOnly to find a new furrow thereDeeply canyon-ed on the browOh, Youth. Dear Youth!PleaseDo not escape me!Take this as an oathA promise to moisturiseDailyTwice tooThrice even if you think it’ll helpFrom this very moment forthFor the glory and vitality of dear beautiful Youth!Though not the beerYou can’t have the beerThat’s mineCan fuck right offWith all and any thoughts of taking thatOr the ginJust fuck off beautiful YouthBe goneCraggy-faced juniper-upped old hopsterHere I come
Thanks for reading 🙂
N. P. Ryan.
Next in vs. Poetry: Hollywood