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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   dominicj7@poetry.net.au Created on 5/2/00