We are simple folk, old and tired.
We weep none, and sing much.
That’s all we have,
now that’s the truth.
Sit back, take a nap and be you called,
old fart.
Our hearing is slight, our speech muffled,
Our sight dimmed by the cost of time.
Memory takes a back seat,
we try hard to be neat.
Our clothing, off color and mostly don’t
fit
Society looks the other way as we stroll by.
Only time will tell, when their turn rises to the
helm.
Our fingers bend and legs swell, toes seize
together, oh well.
Old age thrives,
It’s a living hell.
A welcomed sleep, without a peep.
Time will tell, the time will come
Rejoice, old girl rejoice
Written: July 18/2006
It comes to us all, and we always hope that we can keep our dignity at the end. Lovely write. love Ernestine XXX
((050) Cost Of Time by Melvina Germain.) **What a precious poem; a keepsake. Thank you.
dignified in tone...hope we hold on to that helm right till the end
such a fine poem. I saw my father cried reading this. I promise to be kind to old people. Love............................................................................................Risha
The truth is, we all hope to live long enough to experience it. Compassionate write, Melvina! Brian
Memory takes a back seat, we try hard to be neat. Our clothing, off color and mostly don’t fit the nice poem for us
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I hope you'll wear purple.