Poem by William Otto
Tempis fugit, the old man said,
As he pillowed his weary head.
I'm just not what I used to be,
Time, at last, has caught up with me.
That lively gait, so full of pep,
Is now a slower, faltering step.
Eyes that once were so very good,
Now see things through a misty hood.
Fingers once sensitive, now fumble around,
Allowing things to tumble down.
In each life there comes a day,
When the aging process has it's way.
The years indeed, have taken their toll,
What a tragedy it is, for us who grow old.
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