Tuesday, August 16, 2016

The Poetry of Growing Old

There is no poetry in growing old
unless it was already there
and you had it all along
There is no wisdom in growing old
unless you had it already
and you do not wait while thinking
maybe it will pop out of a magic bubble

I slowly lose my strength
and wonder sometimes
about things I could do
but can't do anymore
I even started to shrink
to remind me of something
I probably already know

My eyes are still sharp enough
to notice the cat on the air conditioner
on the second floor
Who knows why she sits up there
but she sees everything
and she should write the poetry

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Interesting...
http://www.sheknows.com/baby-names/name/alan

Unknown said...

It is and there's the risk in those of reading stuff you like but, wtf, I like it (larfs).

It leaves out the bad stuff as in I really don't want to go anywhere and my most noble mission is staying warm (larfs). That sounds strange when it has been so hot outside but it warms inside as well for that because the A.C. can't quite keep up with it. When it comes down to the eighties outside, the inside temperature goes to double blankets for me. How's that for noble (larfs).

I appreciate it as the insight is novel and even if it's cosmetic ... I like it (larfs).