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Created on: July 03, 2009
She embraces with grace
Each wrinkle on her face,
For they represent a life well spent.
Tears and laughter have left their mark,
And the gravity of long living on her body park,
But of not a single moment would she repent.
Of growing even older she has no fear,
Celebrates with joy each brand new year,
More wisely than in youth is her mind now bent.
So rather than rue the passing of the years,
She welcomes them each with no apparent fears,
This precious life on earth to her lent.
Learn more about this author, Karen Chaffee.
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Poetry: Growing old
steps much slower than before
as time creeps up upon my door
trying to sing a happy song
wondering where time went wrong
pulling
by Josh Andrews
In fifty years we will be nothing more than a mass of wrinkled weathered skin and fragile bones
Our memories and stories
I gaze at my bathroom mirror,
And looking back at me,
Are the telltale signs of wrinkles,
And gray hair their company.
My knees
COULD IT BE I’M GETTING OLD
Age is a thing we all must face;
We’ll all grow old some day
unless, of course,
Twisted just like gray lovers under the covers
I will love you until the end
And we will dry up like prunes
The paper stickers
View All Articles on: Poetry: Growing old
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