A Hundred Springs
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Some days I feel so damned old
Like my zest is starting to mold
Seems my feet are always cold
My golden years ran out of gold
I'm sitting here on this old swing
Watched the ending of another spring
The birds with their young under wing
The warm gulf winds start to sting
I remember swings used to be fun
We'd jump out and land on the run
All those years chasing the sun
Now those memories are called homespun
And all in the blink of an eye
Young goes to old on the fly
Shake my head and let out a sigh
As a hundred springs pass by
by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017
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