The Golden Years

The world has heard of the golden years
                            Is it a myth or a phrase
                   When do they begin,when do they end
                    When you are young you can run the race
                    But when you're old you can't wash your face
                     Your bones ache in pain at night
                      Your joints are rusty ,and you lose your sight
                     When they tell you about the pot of gold
                      At the end of a rainbow,you can't hear
                                 Must be the golden years.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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