Henry
The body has betrayed this once hale and hearty man
but he still does what he can
so what if the crows feet have become crevasses
no vanity here
he still sasses the kids and kids around with his old cronies,
those left
And if he's now bereft of sensual pleasure,
what does it matter
memories of younger days are still embedded
in the recesses of his brain
Eagle eyes clouded, sensations shrouded
he still revels in children's laughter, tilled dark earth
and early buds
showing with the first spring rain
Don't feel sorry for this grey old death-dodging codger
he still does what he will
no matter if time has had its way
nothing to fear
the play's the thing, and sorrows and slings are about to exit,
stage left
Copyright © Richard Milne | Year Posted 2016
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