The young are often credulous—open to chains of lies—
reaching out for the brass ring, desirous of the prize.
Hopeful, naive and buoyant, they flit from thing to thing,
desirous of the riches they hope that fate will bring.
With age their hopes are truncated as reason rears its head
and they discover the reality of what life gives instead.
Toil, sweat and labor and responsibility
supersede those youthful dreams of nobility.
Fuming with fate’s injustice, we are pulled into line,
as sour grapes replace youth’s hopeful dreams of honey wine.