Warning The Young Of Old Poem by James McLain

Warning the young of old; i did not but, i came
and went out of more or less circumspect.
The convention center of the Curtis Hixon,
gave the woman i picked, hundreds of roses,
even the teachers, knew the good in the bad.

I knew if i ever got that old, the daisies would pick
me up not i them and the young would think of me not.
I being never young will never be so old again as i
never once was to drink in the spirit again of youth.

Only the heaven's know how many comets held the tail
and the moon always weeping now stays as she is then.