Whilst all the young may have youth,
not all the youthful young.
Youth’s not measured by our age,
or the passions we engage.
It’s not about time at all,
or being big or being small.
It’s not a question of maturity,
rock star travel or annuity.
It’s the way we feel and perceive,
of life’s fascinations to conceive,
hopes, dreams and wishes to believe,
it’s how we love and how we grieve.
A youthful heart’s quick to mend,
quick to receive, give and lend.
Wonders abound in youthful eyes,
birds soar higher in bluer skies.
Yet youth is stolen by the fiendish lie,
That getting older is preparing to die.