Friday, 18 November 2016

Old Man’s Eyes

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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