Points of View

Yours cocks his hat and rides up the street.

Age cocks his eye only to see it.

Youth puts his horse at a five-barred gate.

Age chuckles grimly and sits down to wait.

Youth limps by with a broken-kneed horse.

Age, through the shutters, mutters "Of course!"

Youth curses Fate for his splitting head.
Age lights the candle and hobbles to bed.