When once youth becomes lost, it remains so forever.
Truth comes too late, and wisdom is for the dogs.
It sings out to you, youth, yet always stays beyond
Your straining grasp.
It is laughter and memory, and a moment out of time.
It tempts but will not suffer
The failings of age.
And why in hell would it, after all.
It holds in its hand, its pretty little hand,
All that you regret.
Youth renders all that useless wisdom into foolishness,
With a sweep of its hair and a smile.