Magic Potions
All the creams and all the lotions,
Are not always the magic potions;
That keep our fleeting youth alive,
And help our dimming hopes survive.
As I sit here and ruminate,
On age that comes as sure as fate;
Finding wrinkles here and there,
Are right in tune with thin grey hair.
All that was said is coming true,
It comes to all not just a few;
So we need to shield the eyes,
From finding that time truly flies.
I’ve heard with doubt there is a rumour,
We need treat age with some humour;
But best we sit and think awhile,
And embrace old age with a smile.
Copyright © Elizabeth Wesley | Year Posted 2011
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