A Time To Grow Old Poem by jackie compton

Surely as the river flows to the sea.
A ripple runs it's course to no more.
A child shall be born.
Come Spring, Summer, Winter or Fall.
A time to grow old will surely come.

The lost of one's youth never to be found again.
When the loud sounds of silent grows no more.
A time to grow old will surely come.

No dike can hold back the tides of age.
As they slowly rolls in and then roll away.
For everything lives to grow old.
Upon my last breath I know.
A time to grow old will come.