A wish I made had come too soon,
So softly I begin to croon.
A soft and sweet; sweet lullaby,
One that's sure to make me cry.
Memories that fill the air,
My childhood without a care.
Blade like grass against my skin,
The sun, it warms me deep within.
The summer breeze upon my face,
The best was when we'd all play chase.
"Stay young" is what they'd always scold,
You'll miss it more when you grow old.
As it's sad to hear me say,
I'll convey their wisdom the same way.
These years you have, please make them last,
For one day they will be your past.
And as they told me, "never drift",
From such a limited, heavenly gift.
So while I speak with caring tone,
This should prove you're not alone.
Make the most of your young age,
Before you think to turn the page.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem