A tottering old man
With fear in his eye
Gripped his metal walker
While shuffling by.
He didn’t seem confused,
But a bit concerned.
Life no longer offered
The joys that he’d learned.
To the many changes
He now must adapt.
How'd life pass him by?
He felt less than apt.
For age greatly changes
The moorings of life.
No longer can we dance
To the tune of its fife.