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 gold and green that mark that earthly power
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.