Stay up late, get up early,
pour coffee in a dirty cup,
sure life is good, but really
there's just never enough-
The corn on the hill
is getting quite tall,
the thin line between summer and winter
is a short fall-
These sit ups and push ups are supposed to help
or so I am told,
no matter what though
I'm still getting weary and old-
The knees they say are the first to go
and then, the heart isn't far behind,
it's one long battle
between age and mankind-
The harder we try
the harder we fall,
in the end, we just
lay down and crawl-
Life is a very thin line
drawn between losing and winning,
likewise love, a thin division
between salvation and sinning-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Smoky, My dad used to say, Only the good die young. And years ago I heard a man, then more then ten years older than me, say, Getting old ain’t for sissies. For two light and brief reflections of mine on aging, see My sixty-eight-year-old Self Looks in the Mirror and Scrawny Chicken. Glen
Thanks Glen! I believe Mark Twain said that (but could've been Oscar Wilde) . I'll read yours very soon my friend. Peace.