Wrinkles and Dreams

The youngs have dreams that plate their lives, I’d bet each dime, it bled their eyes. At arrow heads’ whisper they count their boons, Dreams of battleground with wins and ruins.

The olds have wrinkles, that marks their lives, I’d bet each dime, it’s how often he smiles. At means or ends, he dines at dusk As Wrinkles of emotions, carve his crust.

The olds have wrinkles and the youngs have dreams, I’d bet each dime, they work as a team. The dreams make his days, that proclaim his sight, The wrinkles map his span, That proclaim his fight.