I will not look on age
and scream
With dried up lips no
longer kissed,
But welcome in the golden
age
And defy death with
folded fist.
These lines, you see,
upon my face,
Were carved there by an
artist’s touch,
And each rut that’s
carved throughout…
A pathway walked, with
memory clutch.
This mind, that once, was
sharp and keen...
Now lives, mostly, in
yesteryears,
But age won’t take my
dignity…
Nor remove, from me,
those gone by years.
Oh, youth, you passed so
quickly by…
While old age seems to
linger,
But you won’t get the
best of me
Or keep me in this
rocker.
So, age, can you hear me
scream
And in your face defy?
For death will not come
for me…
Without hearing my
outcry.
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