It was as if
the day,
Cold, wet,
streaked with blue and gold,
Had decided
that today was time
To tell me I
was old.
It came as
no surprise to me.
I look
through old man’s you see.
And old man’s
eyes
Cannot
disguise
Life’s
gradual greying by degree.
Even the
scudding of the clouds,
The blowing
of autumnal shrouds,
The hunching
down of shoppers in the street,
The
reluctant stepping of their feet,
All seemed
to say
Today’s the
day
To face your
mediocrity.
Six decades
on
From that
first gasp,
With kicking
feet and clutching grasp,
The end
seemed such a long way off,
Each
challenge met with sharp riposte,
No thought
was given to the cost,
And I not
once thought to end up lost.
Ha! Just
goes to show; keep fingers crossed!
Through old
man’s eyes I see it now,
The
inevitability of outcome.
Change? I couldn’t
anyhow,
Besides,
what can be done?
Ten, twenty,
thirty, more?
Two thirds
of my full sum for sure,
You cannot
pass back through that door
When all is
said and done.
And all is
said and done.
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