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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2024113
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2024113
A poem of growing old, and reflecting on life.
I sat once (upon a park bench),
next to an old man who looked so alone.
His eyes looked weak and weary,
and his face looked made of stone.
He struck a conversation (As old men do),
about his younger years,
He said "I once was a daring strapping lad,
much more than what you see here


I once stood atop the highest of mountains,
I once conquered the strongest of seas.
I once had many of young gorgeous lasses,
swoon and fall at the sight of me.

I once had many of friends
that would stand by me,
through the thick
and through the thin.
I once had many of medals,
from all my victories,
my wins.

But now those mountains that I climbed,
no longer seem so great a feat.
And those seas that i'd once conquered,
seem now to be very weak.
And all those beautiful girls,
are either dead or settled down.
I never took a chance with them,
my true love,
I never found.

And all those I friends that once stood by me,
I have now outlived them all.
And those medals I had that I was so proud of,
are now rusted upon my wall.

Take what you want from these words I say,
perhaps there is a lesson to be learned.
No matter what great feats you do in life,
one day you'll just be ashes in an urn."
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2024113