60
There's a few too many years
Clinging on these old bones
You can tell by the way
They creak and grind as they groan
And with the condition of the skin
That loosely covers them
More than not a few wonder years
They have had to live
With what little wispy bit
Of thinning hair that's left
There's more gray thatch than that of black
These days at its best
Then there's the ever dimming down
Of the once bright stage lights
That I hate to place the blame
On my old age eyesight
And with the continued way
The mind skips, dips, and wanes
I find it's all a part of life's
Greatest give away
Which makes it harder than ever
To know if I was told
That this is how it really feels
When my friend you have grown old
I had a Birthday poem that I've been saving for 2 weeks now to post and this morning I can't find it! Maybe it'll show up about the time I turn 61! Lol!
Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016
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