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Poem

When the sun begins to rise and I open my eyes,
I see only the path to my adventure.
I am taken with delight as I prepare to ride in flight,
If only I could find my upper denture.

I touch the floor with feet and slippers hope to meet,
But instead I find the floor so cold.

I am reaching for my glasses as my spouse so often sasses,
On my head she says; I must be getting old.

Out of bed I wander to the closet of the water,
Hoping to awaken to a younger man.
My grandpa so I see I'm so sure that it's not me,
That I say to him in mirror gramps the man.

Though the wrinkles on my hands look like twisted rubber bands,
I know that I am stronger than I seem.
My hair, though not it's tint is all there leaves me a gent'
And with in my eyes you even see a gleam.

I'm walking rather slow, these days and don't you know,
I see so many things I'd long forgotten.
How a bug crawls upon the ground intent
And how a twig so twisted like me is bent.

Oh the pains that life does dish.
Each night as I retire my spouse say's how's the fire,
And I answer not as hot as I may wish.

So does end my daily adventure another one to come,
The end of this dear poem, my life's days a brand new sum...

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