Piles of things that come down as if out of nowhere

How does one cope?

Or seeming to do so take time out of the day to realize

That as we grow older our obligations, our responsibilities, only grow

As we do.

This is nothing new,

But can appear to be to someone that has not thought,

Not dwelt on it before.

I seem to be realizing that these are and forever shall be the finest days,

The very finest days of my youth.

How proper I feel, how fitting that it should come to this.

I would have found it amusing when I was 8 years old

And drawing pictures as I imagined myself to be now.

O, how that child of days, feelings, words, arguments, slights,

And joy beyond the highest hymns of heaven how has he changed?

How would he feel now?