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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2094772
A poem about the way we see ourselves aging.
My hair is blonde, my eyes are bright.
My energy is high, my skin is tight.
I am so young, I am so free.
I'll never grow old, I'm twenty-three.

My hair's still blonde, I have glasses now.
Not as much energy. I feel like a cow.
I am still real young. I'm still alive.
Don't call me old, I'm forty-five.

My hair went grey. My eyes are fine.
I have grand-kids. I see them some time.
I am still young. Not ready for Heaven.
I'm still not old, I'm sixty-seven.

My hair is white. I can no longer see.
No one comes around, to visit with me.
I am still young. Even if it's just in my mind.
Don't tell me I'm old. I'm Ninety-nine.

(16 Lines)
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