The seas had receded, but they took their time
As if opening that fine bottle of wine
Meant so very little to the uncouth
Ah the blessings of a wasted youth

That had not yet drunk from the cup of wisdom
So our little world was still their kingdom
But the seas would return, sometimes in a rage
And youth would become man, but still no sage

For they still did not savour Chateau Neuf Du Pap
They preferred the rage still to the gentle lap
But give them time, like all fine matured things
They learn perhaps circles are actually rings

But wisdom of age is not the sanctuary of the fool
He learns that the steadiest seat is the three legged stool
But like fine wine the young will eventually mellow
And understand a raging sea is not a good bedfellow

Hasten not though to drink from the sea of tranquillity
Do not let those learning years pass in mediocrity
Read Kipling’s IF as you breathe in the air
And those seas may then be calm and treat you fair

For real learning is not always in a philosophy book
It is in those people you thought old and mistook
For they only fish where the cormorants would circle
For the long race was won not by the hare but the turtle

For time and patience has taught them many things
They learn that not all circles are necessarily rings
Drink slowly the wine and savour the taste
And you just may find those years have not gone to waste