Poem about aging.

Peeling paint,
and rusting metal,
Withering wood,
and tautly hinges.
Once a beauty,
sharp and witty,
strong and sturdy,
supple and limber.
Father time,
and mother nature,
reap their dues,
and cause their damage.
With courage and wisdom,
awe and wonder,
these marvels fall,
but their memories remain.

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Comments (4)
  • papaleng on Jul 1, 2010

    lovely with good flow.

  • LJ Spain on Jan 24, 2011

    It’s really nice.

  • Sheila Barnhill on Jan 31, 2011

    I’m 55 so I can really relate to this!

  • vickylass on Mar 7, 2011

    Good poem indeed! Thanks for sharing. Keep up the good writing.

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