The Oldness Of The Old Depresses Poem by Shalom Freedman

The oldness of the old depresses
My own oldness depresses
My being among the old depresses

The small children make us happy
Their running their jumping their nonsense
Their little talk- if they talk

The end depresses
The beginning gives hope

The old love to see the small children
The small children want their parents

Life is not fair
The more you have done, experienced, given
The more you know
Does not matter in the end

Old is old
And young is young

Go slow-