Time slows and age runs fast
to try and catch the heart that
remembers how to play and laugh.
The somber and severe become
sour and jaded with no joy.
Their inner child tossed aside like
an unused broken toy
who's value in repair they fail to see.
Oblivious they proceed without a clue
one of the multitude that pay and pay
the cost long after the debt came due.
Lost to their mind so smart the virtues
of a playful mind and a youthful heart
What should be days of joy and ease
now become void of pleasure and peace
as you have now earned the title Old Tart.
Now you know that I couldn't use the F word.