Watching the Ripples Radiate.
Author: marshalg

Chapter 153
Cyclical

 

 

 

Visions of grandeur flood through youth

When mapping out their years,

Erecting castles in the air

Amassing stuff to allay fears

Of destitution's older age,

Of desperation's bleaker page.

The striving years of young adults

When building their careers,

Acquiring chattels with desire

And quaffing favorite beers.

Dispensing now the things of youth

Adopting voguish ways of couth.

 

Arriving babies bring their joy

Exhausted nights of sleeplessness,

Farewell to freedom's easy way

And casual lust's serene caress.

Entrenchment in a life's routine

Parental responsiveness is seen.

Dad's and babies at the pool

Bounce together all in line

Twinkle, twinkle little star's

Bonding loving nursery rhyme.

Magic moments held in love

Babe's and fathers, hand in glove.

 

Little boys ride bikes to school

Their homework in the bag,

Mathematics and geography

Make the day ahead a drag.

They wish we had a sporting day

To cheer the first fifteen at play.

Old Dad is always working

And Mum is on their back

To tidy up the bedrooms

And fill the firewood stack.

Delivered papers in the morning

Riding home as day is dawning.

 

Tensions build as teens advance

Testosterone and girls,

Tattoos worn on bulging thighs

And gel through spikey curls

They eat you out of house and home

And let you pay for their cell phone.

The mortgage and insurance costs

Electricity and gas,

The quarterly fee at varsity

Has cleared you out of cash.

Oblivious of hardship the boys have stuff to do

The "Olds" with their credit cards will sort the matter through.

 

All at once without a fuss

They flee the family home

To go to make their fortune

And leave we "Olds" alone

The fridge is stocked with food at last

Those days of cash less-ness are past.

The halls of home do echo

There's no clutter on the stair,

The laundry basket's spotless

There's a silence everywhere.

We watch TV myopically

We miss life's chaos desperately.

 

There's lotto at the weekends

There's football on the tube.

Mother's garden's beautiful

And the old Ford needs a lube.

The house cat's curled up by the fire

The boss suggests that I retire.

When all at once there is a din

To our delight there's grand children

Once again we come alive

Our happy home, our busy hive.

 

Sadness in the morning

An era holds dismay,

Because a generation's passing

Is really just another day.

The sun will rise at dawning

A few shall weep in mourning.

Visions of grandeur flood through youth

When mapping out their years,

Erecting castles in the air

Amassing stuff to allay fears

Of destitution's older age,

Of desperation's bleaker page.

 

 

 

Marshalg

@theBach

Mangere Bridge

27 June 2009

 

 

 

 

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