Seasonal Dreams Poem by Bryan Taplits

When one is young and not yet done
He thinks in upbeat, cheery tropes,
As youth matures he gleans future roads-
Which leads to the waning of his once towering hopes.
The tunes once dear are now more drear
Melodies trickling forth, hollowed of hope,
For no longer is life as carefree anymore,
But has paused on a more downward slope.
He hungers for his past of un-rebuked childish sighs,
In this valley of dwindling hopes,
Transfigured is what he now sees:
In this Panorama of bleak hanging ropes.
In this fortress of doomed shrinking rooms
That envelops his stumbling "whys? ,
A castle newly built on a foundation of
Passed childhood-and over-ripened puerile past sighs.

He sees less of his young sanguine hopes
His eyes notice a future more stark,
As he notices these new views-he sees only bad news:
And the appearance of now hanging ropes.
And what once was his May, now lopes fast away
As Destiny takes Its fell aim,
And that which he sees are not dreams of hope anymore
But rather rough ropes from which he seems fated to hang.

All the promises he saw in his childish years
When he first traipsed on his life‘s voyager-track,
Were the forerunners of Time's certain curse-
(Which is certain-as one ages-to change for the worse)
It is here-at this depot- he learns no longer to look back.
As he wends on his way
(with a toll he's now doomed to pay) ,
His lofty "hopes" no longer aspire bright,
In a daylight that turns into a grim and blackened berm,
His shimmering young dreams
Are now sooty, and gloomy, like the night.

His matured film is riven, and all seems unforgiven,
When a new plot is first cast- and then wove,
A new partition is thus rendered: He sees Love unencumbered-
And discovers a mature treasure trove.
No longer are his fears despairing and all un-bright
Rather, forward he looks as it was back then,
as it was in childhood-where he scented the new grass-
And he sees here his new path-
Which now leads-to a joyous and glorious Good Night.