Old age is a curse,
it’s like a disease,
attacking the bones,
and crippling the knees,
slowly maturing,
with each new grey hair,
trying not to notice,
but you know it’s always there,
hours pass by,
the days and the years,
as old age develops,
so to do the fears,
the once flawless complextion,
the face men desired,#
looks wrinkled and worn,
sallow and tired,
a trip to the shops,
turns into a task for the day,
shuffling along the streets,
you once used to play,
remembering the feel,
of the wind in your hair,
as you ran to the park,
no time for cares,
and now times against you,
as senior effects take hold,
brittle bones aching,
at the chill of the cold,
as what you once were,
is no more to be,
and what you once had,
now a mere memory,
just photos and memories,
and short stories re-told,
of a life tinged with regret,
before time made you old…..
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