youth

i envy youth, but its an envy without bitterness and without any desire to relive my own youth. it is more of a reflection of its simple beauty, born of a sentimental nostalgia as i watch my golden-haired child play along the shore in the late afternoon sun. it is the magic and innocence that provokes reflection, not the power and arrogance of young adulthood. rejoice, o my beautiful son in thy youth, for it is a once in a lifetime experience. do not be in any hurry to grow up. the next time in life you will experience the magic of childhood will be when you begin to grow old like me — and then it is secondhand, tinged with a hint of melancholy and a pinch of bittersweet envy as you watch your own children play in the sunlight.