They Were Too Young

They once were just as young as you

And swift and strong and agile too

But oh the years, pass swiftly by

And now their youth in ashes lie.

Oh yes, those old grey headed folks

Whose talks the distant past evokes

Were once my friend some innocent babes

Who with the years watched childhood fade.

They too had played their little pranks

Among their youthful peers and ranks

And lived without regard for life

For to such reality a child is blind.

Those aged feet which now conceal

The youthful lustre and appeal

Were once so strong and swift and fair

And took them where they wished and dared.

Aged folks now gripped by pains

Who now wonder from whence such came

Knew not of such in childhood years

When they pranced and froliced with their peers.

But ah my friend the years go by

And without apology they defy

The human will to keep them firm

Or to stop the wheel of time that turns.

And yes, in many subtle ways

The youthful years just quickly fade

And without much notice or alarm

It disappears with all its charms.

From babyhood to adult life

Nonchalance does give way to strife

And yet in all of this some hold

The view that they will not grow old

And they have tried in many ways

The signs of aging to betray

And dyes and attitudes are used

In their attempts such to diffuse.

And as advancing years they face

They entertain them not with grace

As though their youth was not a thing

That timely showed its pair of wings.

Frustrated in their quest to hold

Unto that which seems an elusive goal

Some into deep depression fall

When they could not this phenomenon stall.

Beneath its waters and its tide

Time takes the years and right there hides

The vivacious, vibrant, youthful touch

That passes on in such a rush.

Oh stop my friend, and take a note

Of all the pluses of your growth

For the years shall pass and not return

Regardless of how much you may yearn.

Do make the best of all the years

When you are strong and fit and fair

And leave my friend, something behind

As your personal gift to man and time.

You too shall someday friend, grow old

Unless youthful death devours your soul

And the joys and perils of old age

Will watch you as you turn each page.

Perpetual youth does not exist

So do not revel in such myth

For if such my friend, you choose to do

Such delusion you are bound to rue.

So now while you are young and strong

Don’t scorn the old and aging ones

For before you count from one to nine

You too shall cross the aging line.

And yes my child, in growing up

You really have indeed enough

Examples in some older folks

Whom honour has robed in its fair cloak.

Men and women who through the years

Have lived their lives in history’s glare

Confirm in ways that are true and rife

That greatness crowns each phase of life.

Some use each year to fortify

Their place in history and deny

The elusive paradise of fools

Whose fear of age, time ridicules.

Souls of greatness and of honour

Who have exuded such glorious manner

Who show to all of us that age

Was meant to make us wiser at each stage.

Aging, friend is nothing bad

That every little lass or lad

Should fear to hence embrace some day

Or to delay or from it run away.

Oh yes! age is the vestibule

The university or the school

In which some very mature souls

Have earned the optimum of their goals.

So now my friend, while you are young

Do relish the advancing sun

Of the years that time does quietly add

To change you from a lass or lad.

And while the years do pass my friend,

Don’t see this as a vain torment

Or view each passing year with fear

Instead, embrace it as a thing quite dear.

So when you see the old, dear youth

Those aging souls with such fair fruits

Just know that you one day too

Shall get there if you make it through.

And while you greet each added year

Do regard it as a thing quite fair

For youthful years shall one day pass

And the aging hours shall hold you fast.

So now to duty noble youth

Do send quite deep your tender roots

And fix it firmly in the place

Where it shall taste of truth and grace.

And when the evening hour shall come

When youthful years are gone and done

You will become a mentor friend,

Among the old and aging men.

Your hour to start is indeed now

The soil of time oh duly plow

And there within the harrowed years

May your life, sweet fruits of virtue bear.