We were all so beautiful when we were young.
We were slim, our eyes sparkled, our skin was fresh.
We were so strong, full of hope and dreams.
We were brave and adventurous.
We raised our voices and sang, loud and strong.
We strode boldly through our days on strong, steady legs: masters, conquering the world.
And then the sun set on our generation, and a new wave of youth rose up.
Our muscles wasted, our skin wrinkled and sagged, the light left our eyes,
The fire of our hope and the flame of the dreams we held so dear flickered, dimmed, and faded away over the course of our disappointing lives.
With tired, rheumy eyes, we watch the new wave of youth repeating all our mistakes.
We sigh, we shake our heads, stirring the last few thin, straggled strands of grey thereon, and the arthritic joints in our necks crackle and pop; and we doze.
O, to be young again! To be strong and beautiful, running the race of our lives on strong legs,
To laugh, and love, and repeat all our mistakes!
To see the world with bright eyes and a fearless heart!
O, Lord, I’m ready; take me home.
The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling 