Young still I am.
Though old I feel.
The youthful blushes
once there, now forever gone.
The fresh feeling of being young,
replaced with the depression of aging.
How can I get it back?
Not my youth I mean,
but the feeling of it.
That sense of having the world by the tail.
At thirty-eight, I’m searching,
searching for my soul to bloom again.
Those blushes to return,
never more gone forever.








Beautifully penned, Daniel. Incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Middle age is peculiar. You are neither young nor old and yet both. It is a window through which you can see — what was, what is, and will be. How will you choose to look through the glass?
I am in the same position, my friend. Excellent piece!