Boooooring! Poem by Dennis Lange

The young today oft have a common plaint,
Their world reduced to black and white, no paint.
At times when others send their kites a' soaring,
Theirs fall to earth, and they proclaim, 'How boring! '

It strikes them in the midst of work or play,
In summer, or in winter, - any day!
It comes upon them like a green fly's droning,
Drops down on them, a dullness and a groaning.

From one who came through childhood's muddled maze
And manages through massed retirement days
With ne'er a minute in pathetic pining:
The question is how youth can be so whining.

Is life to them an endless sugar high
Of tech and toys and tunes' lullaby,
So that in pause, withdrawal causes crashing,
A sourness at all the world, teeth gnashing?

When diabetic, one must cut the sweets;
Be disciplined in what he drinks and eats.
And so the youth must bite their tongue on blaming
And look at self 'bout texting and their gaming.

For, each man's blessed with life on earth so wide,
That though he tries, he'll always miss some tide.
With world's expanse, and ache-wish for exploring,
One with a mind will never say, 'How boring! '