You are young and full of energy
And always on the go.
I wish I could keep up with you
But I am worn out and old.
You use to ask me questions
My advice you held so dear.
Now you speak only in passing
I wonder if you are really here.
You are always so busy
With your own young life.
While I sat here at home
Full of pain and strife.
I don’t hold it against you
For once I was there.
Now all I can do
Is just wonder and stare.
Your youth and vitality
Is something to behold.
But never forget someday my son
You will be worn out and old.
Written by
Doyle Kirkman
September 16, 2008
