Grown Hopes

The road, it moves beneath the feet, each step is back and forth; endlessly chasing the future past in constant dismay of present.

 

Dreams of a future yet to be, idealistic as they are; hopes for what tomorrow may bring, life observed from afar. Such potential, things to come, wanting it all now; to err is human, a folly of youth, time will show you how.

 

In the middle, before changes arise and rear their ugly head; a period of time, clarity, life taken in its stead. Fantasies aged out of, spine still strong, reality's weight yet to crush; a fragile balance, mere chemicals away, waiting for a push.

 

Slowly starting, forest fires, burn across the body; the last embers linger, youth's final spark, of hopes there to copy. Before the pressure of concrete sets, before time's fatal stab; a shining moment, dreams to be dreamt, plummet into its trap.

 

Age brings wisdom, life the rest, the older and older you get; the more you long, the more you wish, to return to innocence yet. Those things out of reach when short in the tooth, seemed so glittery then; lustre lost by rules and reality, hope to be born again.

 

The road, it moves beneath the feet, each step is back and forth; endlessly chasing the future past in constant dismay of present.