My Old Brain
My old brain is 36 dry
losing the youth
these eyes begin to cry
Sun casting shadows
Yesterday's friends
are no longer shining
collecting only cobwebs
in the attic of my mind
It is not easy to think
But ,I do not,for an instant
pause to open that beer can and drink
Sitting on a bench of that Park
There is an old puppy who is too weak to bark
My vision starts to water as I walk over to stroke his thinning fur
People come and going
are passing us by without knowing
Girls are getting taller
Boys are growing facial hair
But this decaying Pain
is all that remains
of my dying old brain
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