PocaPage64
In my twenties and my thirties,
I would help out those that were old,
Walk slow and listen to what they say,
And I would never talk so bold.

A smile was placed upon my face,
And I would listen so intent,
About the things they would like to do,
But for me to do it was meant.

Their bodies sometimes crippled up,
Or their mind was crippled more,
They told things oh so many times,
As they shuffled across the floor.

She told me this just yesterday,
She forgot, but how could that be,
And why is it he can not walk,
His leg looks alright to me.

I did not understand just why,
But I knew it wouldn't happen to me,
For I was young and I did not know,
What age can do, you see.

No longer in my twenties,
But still I'm not old, for now,
Tho I must say I start to see,
That it could happen anyhow.

More patience to hear the same old thing,
Perhaps ten times or so,
And it seems to me they have sped up,
Or it could be I'm going slow.

They can not stand, they can not walk,
Nor lift their arms or bend,
And now they think this brand new pill,
Will put them on the mend.

My mind still thinks that I am young,
It thinks I'm still forty-five,
But the body knows I am not young,
And is thankful I'm still alive.

I understand there can be pain,
Even when it looks alright,
And when morning comes it takes some time,
To get moving from the long, long night.

Now a smile is planted upon my face,
When the aged ones I give a hand,
And inside I say a word of thanks,
That I finally understand.

But when I can get down on my knees,
When it's time for me to pray,
I ask that God sends a tolerant one,
When I need their help someday.
Poca'sPoems
PocaPage65
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music: Old Man2