Youth In Time

Two years old
A burgeoning bundle
Of mess, stutter-stepping
Into matter much harder
Than skull
Always learning…

At twelve
Simply stapled to a desk
Sit tight and listen
Succumb to what is
Told, no life beyond those
Mildewed windows

‘dunno how many dastardly drinks
In, does it matter?
Here on your own volition
Did you pay attention?

Now, thirty-two
And time dwindles about you
Nothing lost
Nothing gained though
There was a time
When what you stumbled upon
Was what was sought
And what was learned
Justly taught.