The death of youth
Be not easy
To grasp as truth,
Destined must
Be so replaced,
Rendering thus
An altered state,
Though dispiriting
As youth’s fate,
Means be alive
If not beyond,
Ineluctable demise…
Hence youth’s adjust
To deal with age
Be hardly just,
Made so compose
With dwindling days,
When point but reached
Life’s ordained way,
Be yet blurred concern,
To grasp the death of youth!
Poetry on a Canapé 
Ah youth!!! Just recently I was looking at my high school year book. I tried to imagine myself at that age and then realized there is no going back. Memory is illusive,merely a guidepost to what was once.
You’re right, and there is no going back, though we all use that thought, in my opinion to lessen the impact, and to ease the way through the gradual mental and physical transformation our life must accept and still profit and enjoy life’s wonders that becomes the more evident with age with every passing day.
Life’s wonders, in spite of the destructive penchant of man and the human condition he selfishly creates and by extension endures. Amazing how much man has evolved from his prehistoric origins to todays achievements, and yet seems oblivious to the potential ultimate perils he is in the process of raining down upon himself, his fellow creatures, and his world. Best to go forward and do our best to help change for the better for they who follow! Jean-Jacques
A poignant well written poem. Reminds me of Wordsworth’s “Splendor in the Grass.” Long live our inner child!
Your response inspires, a feeling of both wonderful and sad. Wonderful that it should elicit thoughts of the great Wordsworth, the while sad, in spite of your positive on our inner child, memory of the subconscious struggle into adulthood, at least for me, spells transformation that left behind memories, some good some bad, but all memorable.
Thanks Paulette for the reminder of the beautiful works of Wordsworth, and the link you give that associates my humble poem to his beautiful “Splendour in the grass”. That is some tribute…my friend! Jean-Jacques