Youth

The older criticize the young
It’s what we do
While a few are able to bite their tongue
Most are unable to

If when you get older, you don’t
I can bet you one thing
Great will power is why you won’t
Let the harsh words ring

Watch out for this low-hanging branch
Your posture is slumping
Do as I say or you don’t stand a chance
When life on you starts dumping

The youthful body works so well
Running fast and jumping high
The aged one can feel like hell
Not enough sleep and too much pie

Though we love the twenty-year-olds’ grace
We expect them to act like eighty
No child would take the elder’s place
Unless with money they are weighty

Experts at ball, English or math
Are thrown in the end that’s deep
And asked to walk the worker’s path
While calm silence they keep

No wonder boys slump their pants
And girls pierce their parts
They can see the stares of their aunts
Or their shapeless uncles’ hearts

Dianamora straps her face to the mast
til no longer desired at a glance
And has her legs bound in a cast
Til they cease to ask her to dance

Hermanese fit and swift as the wind
Dons a coat of low self-esteem
And pulls against the bungy cord of sin
Til none would him facile deem

The babes should romp and delight
The old getting out of their ways
For far too soon does youth take flight
And the once young sing of Glory Days