Youth is a thorny, yet delightful flower.
The mistakes made in youth are vexatious, life lessons to learn.
We can bloom beautifully with rapture, or grow bitterly by the hour.
Youth is an unsecure bridge; it may connect us to the wisdom entailed by age.
This bridge teeters precariously, so we must remain argus eyed.
To cross this frightening bridge will create a cantankerous, old man or a sage.
Youth is the catipillar that is eager to become a lovely butterfly.
A door closes to which a new, more profound one opens.
And when it is my time, I want to leave my youth peacefully; I want to age gracefully smiling with a bye.