Old, Is It
These years are
said to be gold, but
if truth be told,
I prefer the silver, brass,
or alloy of any kind.
I do not mind the aging
the years unfold,
I just don't fancy being
considered old,
And old poets do not
die, go to the here-
after. They write
another chapter. then
all things being
equal, they scribble
a sequel.
Copyright © Nola Perez | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment