Not too many will review a taught lesson,
To remember from a session...
With renewed seriousness.
Nor are there many sitting listening,
To comprehend what it means to end...
A foolishness started by them that begins.
Some people who have aged,
Have not grown up at all.
And...
Some people who have aged,
Believe it a fixation that degrades a youth.
Like a habit or a fetish,
One accepts or excuses with time to refuse.
Yet a time that moves on,
Does this faster than a speeding jet.
And a time that moves on,
Does not stop to pay its respect.
There's no time that moves on,
Returning it back to those who had it.
No matter who's left weeping,
From an over sleeping they've awakened to regret.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem