Age is just a number
that we are often told
when we reach a certain
mark no longer called youth
would it really matter then
to count the leaves that fall
can't do much when we are ten
but follow orders and be seen
and tho we are at the receiving end
with pampering we can't complain
still a child to them we seem
a fledgling sans its wings
at twenty comes freedom
but only to some extent
we start to earn our keep
and hold our own purse string
it is a time of reckoning
the future and what it brings
we're on our own at thirty or so
with families and kids in tow
expectations are high and lo
by perforce we can't let go
some may choose to still hang on
and be parasites all along
then, life begins at forty it's been told
wonder how if we are that old
for what it's worth i think its true
to start anew from previous faults
to fix what's wrong in the years past
keep lessons learned while time still last
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem