He’s got wrinkles instead of pimples,
That’s the way the story goes.
He’s outgrown growing
Except for his nose.
His memory works fine for things
That happened years ago
But what he ate yesterday
He doesn’t seem to know.

He used to sing and dance a bit
And now he just walks
For a couple of miles a day,
As he passes by folks
He stops and talks.
He catches up on how they are
And what is new with them.
But for what they said
His memory grows dim.

It’s not important to store the tales
They tell him of their lives
Of children’s accomplishments
And the health of their wives.
The important thing to him is more
To not be alone that day.
He passes time and smiles,
And enjoys life that way.

His hair has gone almost to white,
Without nearly as much pep,
His voice has gotten reedy
There’s a halt to his step.
But he has time for people and life
And he still writes his stories
That he tells to his friends
Who care to hear his glories.