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Old Age

In my youth, I am sure I was slim, a figure both modest and trim; but now I am old, I'm frequently told my features are wrinkled and grim. As a girl, I was agile and quick, my dancing was stylish and slick; but sadly it’s gone, I just hobble on now helped with the aid of a stick. I attracted young boys by the score, un-limited lovers, galore. No more sex appeal, instead they all reel and claim I'm a dowdy old bore. In my prime, I would argue, roughshod, Demosthenes then was my god. But now I just drone, I mumble and groan and gripe like a grumpy old sod. All day I just look at the walls; the clock on the mantelpiece crawls. But is that a knock, a turn of the lock? I do hope that somebody calls. ~ For Black Eyed Susan's 'Aging' Competition.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Date: 4/10/2013 8:57:00 AM
Dear Charles - Yours is a tale so many of us know too well. Take heart, your poetry is magnifique. love, Kathy
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Date: 4/7/2013 6:27:00 PM
A nice poem in which starts at youth, Charles, you did well in Susan's "AGING" contest. Congratulations:-) take care~LINDA
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Date: 4/7/2013 3:20:00 PM
A great description of the aging process. Congratulations on your win. Love, Joyce
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Date: 4/7/2013 1:21:00 PM
Sad but true, good poem, nice picture of that old lady sitting there. Enjoyed it very much.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things