That Youth Imp

Oh, he's a sly and crafty one,
he is. Three-score-years-and-ten
need not necessarily always lead
to the assumption of gloomy sobriety
and his occasional casually spontaneous
and oh dear, advanced-thought-out
sorties to the nearby bulk food store
in an enthusiasm of independent thought
represents a lapse back in time, shedding
three-score of those burdensome years.
Memories of old-fashioned candy
shops resurrected in those irresistible
"bulk bins" of candies, nuts, dried fruits
whose aromatic allure, bright colours
and inviting shapes so accessible,
though a ten-cent piece no longer goes
as far as once it did. Ah, though,
the deep satisfaction in bringing home
the productive haul; plump, juicy raisins,
roasted assorted nuts, red licorice and
mouth-watering black redolent of
greedy youth. The clever artifice of
naming that emporium a food store
not lost in the irony of welcome it
raises within the emotional consciousness
of the elderly youth of the day.