Back then we would talk big –
As if everything was easy,
And that there was nothing to worry.
We’d boast of the things we bought with money;
No clue to value them,
Just to make us feel better in comparison.
And we’d talk of what we’ll do –
In growing up,
As if we had a clue.
Then we’ll agree that our parents
Don’t know much better;
And really, we’re a lot more wiser.
Often we’ll talk of freedom
Away from the grasp of hands,
As we’ll find our own lands.
At times, we’d also laugh at death –
Too young to realize regret,
What it truly means when we rest.
And in time we slip with age;
Learned of losses,
As we filled our page.
In the value of money,
It saved our troubled lives;
But greater happiness can’t be bought as we tried.
To growing up – we realised too late,
“If only I had more time”,
More time to really think.
And to the success of leaving home,
We’re now burdened with troubles –
Like our parents, carrying it alone.
And to death,
We hide in fear to greet;
As we learn there’s more to love and more to see.