Youthful Days were the coming of age,
they were our salad days of outrage.
A time when lust took over us,
when we enjoyed each others touch or kiss.
Times when ambitions had not been realised,
dreams consumed our future mesmerised.
We ate, drank, and danced by day and night,
beauty was to be found in each and every sight.
Otimism reigned as depression had no name,
there was little to appease us or to shame.
We studied, failed, passed without much care,
there was not much that we would not dare.
I look over my shoulder at those youthful days,
as we basked in those glorious rays.
Maturity soon replaced such a time,
as our looks and life took on a new rhyme.
Those halcyon days can never be revisited,
as they are kept in memories invested.
We live but one life, which is soon over,
but our youthful days are now wrapped in clover.