When I remember all the fruits of youth
That reckless time has scattered in his wake,
A child uplifted in a quest for truth,
Misled by passion, tutored by mistake;
Led by fond dreams of glad prosperity,
Cradled by hope, in hope fair dreams expressed;
Then to embrace a bleak reality—
By time and chance, of fondest dreams bereft;
From brightest morn unto the twilight hour;
From youthful glory to a humbler state.
From idyll homes to ivy-covered towers
Unto the Stygian black of forgone fate.
Oh cruel time that tempts us with such lust,
Fair gift today, tomorrow is but dust.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.