Youth

Through the years

Through the angst

Through the thorn bed of youth

We have reached;

Uncharted territory.

We dreamt of a road

lined with rose bushes

red carpeted for our royal tread

But instead we find

our satin slippers,

getting caught in the thorns

slipping, dragging;

pathetically along.

Is it a road,

Or an uphill climb?

Full of life blood

We surge along

On, on

creeping up on the rising sun

Seconds from the top

a stray thought

buzzes in 

and dies stinging the fast settling complacency

What happens

when you reach the beginning of the end?

Do we wait for the sun to set

or bathe in its abundance till darkness seeps in.

Do we wait

till life bleeds us of our youth?