Oldage
Our car, among the classics
Our things, became antique
We, turned into relics
And our friends, befit a clique
Our cottage, now the hermitage
Our home, is a relique
Our life, will be a heritage
And when we talk, it’s a critique
What we do, has grown archaic
Our habits, turned oblique
Our thinking, esoteric
But now, we are unique
WIZDUMBs by JA 418
Copyright © Ja Ja | Year Posted 2018
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