As We Grow Older

Title says it all

The feet shuffle a bit now
And the hands tremble relentlessly
But the mind is still sharp
Tho’ wanders off on it’s own
Now and then

Before returning quickly
To where it left off…
Glasses are thicker, as is the waist
And It seems one’s throat
Always needs clearing

Thoughts still focus on the present
And on the future, while dwelling
Disproportionately
In memories and melancholy
And conscience and reflection
Become a cape ‘neath
Which to hide

Reviews

[mysticgmekeepr]

....and a tent to play

[Marie]

This is a very depressing image of what should be a "golden" time...

[David O Whalen (O Haolin in Celtic)]

Well Marie, they say "write about what you know about" and I'm an expert on getting old!

[Marie]

If I wrote what I know about it would be very boring indeed.

I'm 69.

[David O Whalen (O Haolin in Celtic)]

still a whippersnapper compared to me!

[Marie]

Good Heavens!--I thought I was the oldest writer on this site.