Three Of Me by Jt Seaboy

Years past my prime, I reflect upon the life that was once mine.
Aged nearly a century old, these dark mahogany eyes witnessed growth.
Here I sit in my rocking back and forth holding the hand of a beautiful woman,
Her milk chocolate eyes reflect the warm ancient sun.
Her skin, not as silky as it once was, was still full of  youth.
I look at my hand, stained from scars and labors of hard  work,
Bitter, saltwater taste comes to my tongue, thinking about how life is for the young.

Executive of a music company I once was,
Suit and tie, briefcase in hand, the scent of dedication and cologne 
I walked, head held high. 
Hip Hop and Rock banged in and out of my ears.
Vernacular over time has changed from fresh to tight to dope to swag,
Getting money meant, “just throw it in the bag”.
An era where you can make beats on phones and mix tapes too.
Music required no skill, just hard work and clever rhymes.
Through all of my struggles I always had a beautiful angel to hold me down.  
Her wings fell from her body once she fell in love with me, she gave all she could and
pushed as hard too.  If it weren’t for her I probably wouldn’t be the man I am speaking to you.

The youth today, in my eyes, have no ambition.
When we were young and innocent we did things different.
We didn’t have computers or games, hell we used to play in the woods all day.
I look out my window and I can see a playground, not a kid in sight.
When I was that young, we could run around all day and all night.
Hearing trees and leaves rustle, as we climbed high.  
One would yell, “TAG!!!!!” “NOT IT!!!!” would be our reply. 
Those were the times, the times where trouble could be solved by Mom raising an
eye.  The sun, my old friend, brings me back to reality, lets me know life was great.