Old age ...

(Youth))
My youth was full of self and pride ,
and on its wave my thoughts would ride.
I never knew that time would turn,
those pride-filled thoughts in fire would burn.

So why's old age the final joke?
Ironic fingers prod and poke.
The hand that pays will take your song,
and hang it on the that dark, stark prong.

In times gone by my youthful smirk,
in quietude would look and lurk.
Although some kindness hid in me,
my thoughts set not compassion free.

(Age))
But now I need a helping hand,
as goodness needs a change of brand,
Now youth still looks, and egos flaunt,
my helpless stance with pity, haunt.

When time for me at last runs out,
that once strong face my youth would flout,
I feel God's hand upon my frown,
His kindness fits compassion's crown.

R.Owen 24/02/2021