The Poet Of Old Age Poem by Shalom Freedman

I am the poet of old age
The Lyric of life
Has been mainly
For the young
Though the growing old
Have had too
Theirfew works of noble note

But of aches, pains, declines, losses,
Impossible struggles, failures, disappointments,
Disabilities, endless irritations and operations,
terminal illnesses,
And all that goes with hospitals and hospices
Who can really sing?

More of Truth than of Beauty
I then write my small lines
Of anything but inspiring
Literal observation and confession.