Getting old

Where once there was the smooth baby face, there now were chiseled lines,

Connected in a pattern, like the roads on a map, they were deep and some relined.

The brow was the worse for the hair had receded upwards and there was that bald spot,

Where once there was a lot of hair, a mop, now there was skin showed a lot.


The body stooped slightly and the gait of the walk was a little on the slow side,

The age of the man was great, many years had he, his body evidence of the hard ride.

Wrinkles and scars were on his body and the height was smaller than before,

His hands had that alligator look, lines aplenty and there was inside a feeling of the raw.


Accolades of the battles of life hung on the wall but dust and spider webs hung on them with age,

This was a man who had lived life fully, a man who in his life turned many a page.

From his loins he had spawn life to continue the cycle of his kind,

Proud of his children and the children they had he saw that life goes around.


His wife had spent the best part of her life watching over him and stood with him through thick and thin,

They had a life of Riley, some good and some not so good, but with little drama and sin.

A life of living well and now in a different stage,

Not wanting drama, just gentle now, that was the words of the sage.


And the desire to make things right, that was foremost on his mind,

But realistically he realized that life will go on, a reflection of his kind.

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