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I’m just an old fart, clinging to the winds of time ... hanging on Everyone who said I was leaving away first are dead and gone I’m an old geezer, stale air breather still hanging on ... but it gets lonely being right, especially at night I’m the old curmudgeon they say, whose creaking up the stairs of time My words, others never no mind pay: decrepancy they say oughta be a crime Sonny boy, Suzzy girl — I’m just an old geezer, whose fighting everyday to hang on I’m a reflection of what you will look like when your mirror fades, and wrinkled desires wane inside tired bones

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 9/12/2017 12:33:00 PM
Old farts linger "Freddie" - they are hard to dispel - But no worries as you get older you lose your sense of smell . . . ; )
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Date: 9/4/2017 1:44:00 PM
You made me smile Freddie...Enjoyed the poem...Have a wonderful day
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Date: 9/4/2017 1:10:00 PM
Another grand slam. Enjoyed it totally.
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Date: 9/4/2017 12:30:00 PM
Good one Freddie. I can picture this, with your descriptions. Well written, as always :)
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