Wasted on the young

I know because I was them once

Stubborn, invincible, I would live forever

Death seemed so far off

On the far side of halfway I want to share my lessons

Maybe this time someone will listen, then again why should this time be different


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Greener Grass

This gravel road,

A path oft traveled,

Lane you strode,

As your life unraveled.


Yon horizon so far distant,

Where a better life must lay,

Hurry on forth right this instant,

For the sun will rise on a brighter day.


On yonder side the grass must surely be greener,

As the old time saying goes,

This too passes as ones life becomes leaner,

With far too little to show.


Much too often we chase exaggerated expectations,

When they seem right within our grasp,

‘Til euphoria fades to urgent consternation,

And your prospects they dwindle and lapse.


Life lessons learned are the hardest its true,

As the scars and bruises do prove,

Out of the rubble and ash will rise a new you,

In spirit and nature behoove.


We greet you back home as a most beloved son,

For you needed to find your own way,

This is only the beginning of the journey you’ve begun,

Welcome home for as long as you will stay.


~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~

Old Man in the Mirror – (A Poem)

Time humbles the man,

Back arching under the weight of a lifetime,

Old photographs,

A reminder of good friends and loves that long ago passed.


The mind drifts,

Not as sharp or quick witted as it once was,

Long gone memories much fresher than today,

Then again, yesterday fits me much better.


Hair gone white,

Deep creases travel like dry river beds across my face,

Skin soft and sagging,

Looking in the mirror I can scarcely recognize myself.


Who is that old man staring back at me?

Drawn and tired,

Teeth yellowed, eyelids hanging like cheap suits,

I know it’s me inside this costume.


The crumbling exterior,

A vessel for a lifetime of wisdom and experience.

Earned through pain, suffering, love, and joy,

A gift wasted on the young.


None of this would I trade for the impetuousness of youth,

Born of  blood sweat, and tears,

Etched in my face as a reminder,

A badge to be worn with honor.