Song of an Old Man
I am not jealous of youth.
Having been there, I miss it.
But having been through it,
I wouldn't trade age for youth.
This being old is easy.
Youth was far too chaotic.
Its passion, hope: despotic.
Now, giving up is easy.
Age has nothing, wants nothing.
But this age: has... wants it all.
Flying before it can crawl.
Easily, I do nothing.
I am not jealous of youth.
Being old is easier.
The world these days is manic.
Being old makes it easier.
No comments:
Post a Comment