I should be getting old,
My youth long in the past,
Instead I’m getting bold,
Breaking the used cast,
Creating my own mold,
Seeing the contrast,
Of what I have been told,
And questions I have asked,
My working hands they hold,
Treasures rare and vast,
My troubles turn to gold,
Life’s fortune I’ve amassed,
Young beauty gladly sold,
For freedom bought at last.

JDoyle