Lost Youth

The glorious days of youth don't last.
We play. We laugh and when it's passed
we wonder why it slipped away?
And when was that, on which day?

Was it the day you realized
that laughter and playing though idolized
cannot be harnessed, cannot be kept?
Or was it the day you finally wept

over the fact that fairytales die?
Whenever it was you remember the cry
that escaped with a sob.
A theif came in and he did rob

the play, the laugh and youthful mirth.
You awoke to the fact that this old earth
is not a playground anymore.
It's just a place with work in store.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!