Back when time wasn’t a worry, I had plenty ahead;
lovely songs to be sung, and great books to be read…
when I was young.
The years sped by, I took them in stride;
the count didn’t matter, I simply basked in the ride…
when I was young.
Life rushed on, my days filled with commonplace hours;
nights brought new adventures and thrilling powers…
when I was young.
The years piled up, but always in denial, I blithely waved them away;
though lurking in the shadows, quietly awaiting, stood my fateful day…
even then, I thought I was still young.
The shattering doom came on a rush with the wind;
its breath of havoc gathered in a spin.
Who could that person staring back at me be?
The Me I had known I now couldn’t see.
To my fearful dread, the mirror delivered a woeful truth:
time had boldly walked away with my youth.
One might presume I’ve been caught in life’s inevitable snare,
pinioned by bands of formidable steel.
Yet, I have an ace in the hole—a mind if you will;
active and questing, impervious to intrusion;
tethered to its grand illusion, chanting aloud,
lost in song, here’s cheers for attitude...I am still young.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
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When I was Young
Back when time wasn’t a worry, I had plenty ahead;
lovely songs to be sung, and great books to be read…
when I was young.
The years sped by, I took them in stride;
the count didn’t matter, I simply basked in the ride…
when I was young.
Life rushed on, my days filled with commonplace hours;
nights brought new adventures and thrilling powers…
when I was young.
The years piled up, but always in denial, I blithely waved them away;
though lurking in the shadows, quietly awaiting, stood my fateful day…
even then, I thought I was still young.
The shattering doom came on a rush with the wind;
its breath of havoc gathered in a spin.
Who could that person staring back at me be?
The Me I had known I now couldn’t see.
To my fearful dread, the mirror delivered a woeful truth:
time had boldly walked away with my youth.
One might presume I’ve been caught in life’s inevitable snare,
pinioned by bands of formidable steel.
Yet, I have an ace in the hole—a mind if you will;
active and questing, impervious to intrusion;
tethered to its grand illusion, chanting aloud,
lost in song, here’s cheers for attitude...I am still young.
Copyright 2003 by Elizabeth Towles