…and what of life


…and what of the infant day,
too young to know the difference
between love we are born with
and loves we learn to accept
from the world around us

…and what of the teenage day,
too immature to understand that
love and lust are a mixed bag of tricks
carried by the genuine and the deceitful
both eager for us to make selection

…and what of the adult day
caught-up in the comings and goings of life
barely time to enjoy love or lust
as it tries to keep up with the neighbours
with society’s social media norms

…and what of the aged day,
weather beaten but too-late-wise
watching as the sun slowly sets
on all the could’ve-would’ve-should’ves
too late now to make peace

*Image source: google

*Trying to expand my poetry.