I Miss My Youth

Festivals stirring me along, wild nights in youth spent. Never a wish for none greater, but a few more moments lent. Twirling amongst the crowds of night, they only fear the day. Bright eyed Gibson girls, ignore what others say. Stouts and porters make a good night, a one to last me ages. My hand that tried to hold on to them, have long since turned the pages. I pray those nights could find me here, so far away from youth. They would not know me if they saw, now I am so long in tooth.