Under the graying strands of hair,
Behind wrinkled foreheads with a dying flare,
Amidst the blurred vision of clouded eyes,
Within the criss – crosses of shriveled cheeks, that with time do arise,
On the droop of slouching shoulders that once held a charm,
Inside the tired veins of crinkly arms,
In the wobble of thinning legs, prone to deceit,
And the unpredictable steps of ageing feet,
There is hidden a Youth from the past,
But forced inside through obligations so vast.
This youth still remains, longing to come out,
But is pushed afar when confronted by doubt.
Let no slouch or wrinkle take away your youth,
As these are just a deception and a bland untruth.