Youth, a poem.

Youth
By
James Robert Smith


We may look
back
in time
at photos of our
golden, glowing
youth.
And we may say,
Where did it go,
My youth? Where did I
Spend it?
But
we don’t spend our
youth.
We invest it.
And if it bears
a child, or two,
and golden, glowing
grandchildren who light
the world with
unknown promise and
smiling, innocent eyes,
then that was
indeed
a wise and wise investment.