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AGE

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

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Your view of age – – –

 

 

depends on your age. [1] 

– eab, 12/26/10


[1] Your age chronologically    AND    the age in which you live.

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AGE

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

Read Full Post »

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 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

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Life is like the milkweed pod;

Head in the air, roots in the sod,

Tender in youth, stiffer with age,

Little in green, older in beige.

Seeds are like years, sprinkled to the wind,

The start known; unknown the fluffy end.

Life is like the milkweed pod. 

 

  -eab, 10/82

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written while at Christ College and Academy,Friendsville,Tennessee 

 

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