Years passed in an instant,
the young foolishness lost.
Somehow,
Cynical caution supersedes impetuous naivety.

Aged think with their heads,
hearts finally at rest.
The juveniles fight the currents,
the matured rest on it,
go with it,
hoping to land ashore
and there,
paradise awaits!

Paradise it may seem,
weathered scorn the notion.
The insides rust away,
leaving a hollow center.
Hardship made them brittle,
cold and unyielding as steel.

The pristine yearn the experience,
just as the ragged yearn the innocence.
Just as the spring's love for the summer,
the summer's love for the spring.