Ode To Youth

When he was bright and
new to life he was
perfection in form and
essence personified. Nature
herself must have spent
painstaking hours in research
and development to breed
a living, trotting, emotive
toy. Wherever he went
adoring crowds followed
eager to view him, touch
him, hold him And he,
grand master in his
Lilliputian world, reciprocated
allowing himself on display
to be held and endlessly
admired. As we all grow
old, so has he, and adoration
no longer enthuses him
for he can no longer hear
the squeals of joy his 
presence elicits, and wishes
to be held only by us, our
elderly little companion.
Still sweet to behold, but
exceedingly cantankerous,
bald, sight-impaired with age.