Thursday, October 24, 2013

An Old Man's Poem

A Man of Old

No man is old who wakes with joy to greet his day
To be able to do the things you once did as a boy
I'm done with counting the years until I fade away
I wish I could tell you my age but I can't remember

I don't remember getting old, It shouldn't happen to me
My eyes got bad and my knees got weak and I can't think
My body don't understand and it won't do what It's told
What's happening to me? I'm only sixty three

I never was that lazy, but this old body loves it best in bed
Though I'm always on the go, I sure do need my rest
For every time that I get up I fall asleep in the chair
So I guess it's best if we don't go there

Time passes by so fast as we watch our hair turn Grey
Just like the clouds in the sky they will surely fade away
We dream about those olden days when we had lots of fun
The girls came from everywhere to run their fingers through our hair

They say the Golden years are the best days of our lives
But the Golden years seems tarnished now as I sit here in this chair
For the things we used to do with joy and delight
Become harder and harder as each year passes us by

When I was just Seventeen I had the World in my hands
I could run all day and play till dawns early light
Now that I'm Sixty- four it just passes my on by
It takes my breath away just to go and get the mail

I guess you could say, I move just like a snail
But a snail's pace is still quite Ace
I move my own way, who's to say?
I hope I live to see another day