(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

On Aging Vines

Immature children.
On aging vines.
Trying to maintain,
Their youthful vanities...
From being noticed,
To be slipping away with time.
Find themselves competing,
With fresh buds appearing to renew...
Another generation to replace,
A growth that takes steps made...
To introduce,
What some that have aged...
Refuse to allow,
A process that is naturally...
Performed by all,
Living creations on Earth does to do.

Immature children.
Aging on vines.
Taking backward steps,
Trying to rejuvinate a stage of life
Long ago to have left.
Can not leave behind times they wish,
To find unchanged.
Although older in appearance,
Their minds have stayed to remain...
The same.

Immature children.
Growing old to get older,
On aging vines.
Can't seem to find to leave behind,
A doing done to accept.
Yet expect those budding fresh,
To follow in aging footsteps placed
Going backward unable to face,
The realities of each stage of life.

And on aging vines are found,
Values, standards and minds...
Much too old to resuscitate times,
To find fresh juice to squeeze.
Or believe the taste,
From a pointless process...
Would be sweeter than ever before,
If ignoring to take steps...
That should naturally progress,
A moving forward.

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