Age (when it found time to begin),
Was like a point, point of a pen.
Later, age becomes a mere word,
Then words “bunched up,” as a full herd.
Soon age is its own paragraph;
(Do “aging” jokes now make you laugh?)
Age, in its swift moving old rage,
At present covers a full page.
Once a period? Now a chapter!
Age keeps growing. What’s it after?
Age will soon more chapters complete;
On-rolling age knows no defeat.
Shortly, age will own the whole book;
It steals youth like no other crook.
Like a book, long ago loaned, Friend
Lastly come those sad words – “The End.”
– eab, 7/13/09
Separate-Holy 