I look into the mirror, and what do I see,
but an ever aging old man;
Hair turning gray, skin starting to sag,
with a shakey unstable hand.
My looks have become quite whithered,
my hair is growing ever thin;
My youth it seems has deserted me,
old age it seems has set in.
How are we to find sweet comfort,
as we age and draw ever near;
To the end of our life as we know it,
to the unknown things we fear?
For tomorrow it seems is not certain,
and yesterday is faded in the past;
How do we find contentment,
in today thats in our grasp?
There is contentment to be found in every day Dwayne...great write...Thank you...10++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
there is a certain sadness in growing old, there's also beauty to behold, a sense of accomplishment, a sense that you've 'been there and done that' knew you've strive to become a better person in the end....a 10