ah, youth
the itinerant, fleeting years
-- days, rather; it all seems so slow

but cease just a moment:
what is this drivel?!
a nostalgia-scented digression,
a meandering reminiscence?

is this not the youth so promised
in fountain and foray alike,
spread out like a deck of cards
fanned on a silver platter?

here, wasted on the young
-- heathen animals, viviparous
tender babes suckling the pale moon --
oblivious to the gifts laid out before
yet wielding the course of destiny
attempting to defy father time,
inhaling smoke and playing lover to loveless

this: was all make-believe, to grow up
now blow away, wither and collapse
into a cynical ghost with a keen eye
for retrospect

-

waste not, want not
so embrace the feeling &
breathe the roses! –
youth is ephemeral; the day is waiting