|
On Getting Old
Roger Belton |
Alas, I wander along the way,
Trying to remember the name of today.
It seems the harder I struggle to think,
The smaller my memory seems to shrink.
But, when one gets old and slightly bent,
It's no surprise that his memory "went".
My hair has long since taken flight,
And I can never sleep all thru the night.
My feet ache, as do most other things,
And I'm plagued with an ear that always rings.
From the rising of the sun to the setting of same,
It's a successful day...if I remember my name.
| | |
|
 |
 |
Publications
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Residents
|
|
 |
Join Us
|
 |
 |
Chat
|
 |
 |
Entertainment
|
 |
Contact
|
 |
|
|
