Heartless Thief
Time is the thief that takes our bonny youth
and turns it into less than perfect age,
wrapped in a blanket made of prickly thorns.
Unwillingly we wrap up in the thorns.
Remembering how painless was our youth,
we resent the sheer discomfort of old age.
Aware that wisdom only comes with age,
we seek a way to bear the hurtful thorns,
for there is no return to lusty youth.
Sweet youth, now stored as memories,
releases warmth to ease our aches and pains,
and softens up the thorny blanket earned by age.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment