Between life's rise and wane
where naivety dawns to wisdom
and adventure turns to vigilance
we're oft caged in our responsibilities.
As if we're cursed by a caesura
of neither feeling youth's freedom
nor the peaceful surrender to old age
just victims to our day to day routines.
Oh, we remember are youthful play
and we tell the tails with boastful joy
as we make grander plans for tomorrow
hoping it will be better than our todays.
Its here we bid farewell to our mothers
and understand the plight of our fathers
as we write eulogies for friends we lost
and sometime realize love is not forever.
Yet, in this pause our minds' whisper to us
in the unified voice we spoke in our dawn
and the foreshadowed tone of our dusk
that somehow the noon is our finest hour.
For its here that our youth's dream are lived
and shared with those we are responsible to
and its here our children change our names
as we treasure their dreams above our own.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Midlife Crisis by Joey Jones )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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