Tender Years

Written by: Charles Clive

When old, I am sure I'll be grey, retirement a long holiday. But now, as a lad, life's boring and sad, when scrabbling about for some pay. In future, I hope to be wise with dreams of a generous size. But now, I just grunt, with attitude blunt, which others all hate and despise. In time, I will happiness spread, be seen as a fine figurehead. Right now, I am tired; I'm seldom inspired and have to be dragged from my bed. I am sure female hearts will compete, as they swoon, by the score, at my feet. But pulling the birds, I stumble for words as they scatter in hasty retreat. When I'm old, I will pray people say I'm fun, when invited to stay. But now, they just groan or moan down the phone. I do wish they'd all go away. ~
For Gail Angel Doyle's Contest by Charles Clive.