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Book 21 Page 3
How did I get old
How did I get old?
It seems like only yesterday
I was just a little boy,
playing with my toys.
The pages of my life
must have got caught in the wind.
Where have they all gone!?
Where have I been!?
I don’t remember getting old,
But alas! It seems I am reminded every day,
“here comes the old man”
my sons now say.
And I say back to them;
“don’t call me an old man you hear.”
Imagining I can still give them a quick
clip round the ears.
But they tower above me
thinking no doubt “I’ve got senile dementia.”
But I could teach them a thing or two,
of human adventure.
In my day I was a pretty good
boxer in the ring.
Young little wiper snappers, ha!
they don’t know a thing!
But alas these days when I look into the mirror I think,
it’s true, I am getting old and there is no cure!
I’m not the handsome young man I though I was,
who was once so trim and demure.
And it is then that I realize;
‘I am getting old.’
© Written by Dominic John Gill www.poetry.net.au firstname.lastname@example.org Created on 5/2/00