Old Things

Old is something special, A Vase, A Jar, An Urn,
Years provide experience, And from those years we learn,
But our bodies do grow tired, And our face becomes a wreck,
What once was tomorrows promise, Is an arthritic pain in the neck.
Sometimes when life is lonely, And age has taken its toll,
It's difficult to keep in mind, Exciting things youth set as a goal,
So we must live with patience, accept that fact of life,
Nature's not forgiving, Time is a cutting knife,
That slices away our yesterdays, In spite of chosen will,
Man with all his cunning, Has never learned the skill,
That tells us of tomorrow, Or brings back yesterday,
Nostalgic memories have a price, Age is the price we pay.

Copyright 10/12 by George W. Collett