Albeit Poem by Robert Sheridan
Albeit
Graying of hair
Bit of a spread
Feet of clay, I
sit here slowly
aging.
Thinking back,
I was a burner
of bridges, was
always in love,
now I'm not.
Good things in
life - they come
& they go, they
come & they go,
go figure.
Tired of always
being told what
to & what not to
do - designed to
enlighten us.
But have to keep
in mind 'tis better
to progress than
digress - sanity
keeps me in check.
'2008'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 12:01:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
