Why Won't Our Young Help The Aged

Though I have died I lived and alive I would be greeted by the dead. The grass should be green as it rains, and how it feels, the smell that we taste. As it feels in the dream. We some, due to our age as our vision begins to fade. Love for those few has seen full bloom, the gardens to large to tend. While the fruit of the tree, once full to the taste. Before was the past now has flown. We are now to many and pride is the price, paid in full. Great are the few whom still in their youth and did learn from those now gone away. Something tragic has happened as the rest, have put the aged and the learned some where else.