Flightless Old Birds

Flightless Old Birds I spill ink upon a most sadden page life of youth was once all the rage Good times were to readily be had even a dull day was not all that bad For each new morn brought renewed hope nothing, nothing seem beyond our scope This ink sets in its newborn form tired words seem to be my new norm A whisper and a cry rarely ever call newborn days of hope I can not recall Why does time eat thus at my soul when more livin' was always my goal Looking back I see ink spilt' long ago the energy was quick the heart aflow' Deep energetic words jumping all about laughter and joy always loudly rang out Love was rampant always in the mix secret night moves our passionate fix O' youth why venture so far astray yes , you just had to have it your way! Robert J. Lindley, 2-04-2016 note: Time, we always pray for more . Yet after life abundant we sometimes regret having had too much . For memories of our youth beckon and shout. We then feel old, alone and so left out. Then we ramble and write tired old words. Looking to the skies as flightless old birds!