The time of youth is of extremes:
They lurch from wild hilarity
To gloom of great intensity,
Then down to depths of ennui.
This roller-coaster of wild passion
Is not we middle-aged folk's fashion.
We take a much more even strain,
Avoid the wild extremes of pain,
And frenzied bouts of tooth-gnashing.
Youths talk so fast it's hard to follow,
Yet their ideas seem often hollow;
As though it matters what brands you wear,
So long as you don't go about bare;
Which at times they almost do,
Even when it's freezing, too.
The initial g in gnashing is meant to be sounded.