Let me now sing the song of my old age,
All I recount now belongs to the past.
Since all the changes noticed are so vast,
Let this song be sung by a real sage.
This face, now so old, ugly, and wrinkled,
Once shone with a bright glow, so appealing.
Though no longer smooth, fine or unpeeling,
This same old skin was once never crinkled.
These eyes, now drooping, dimmed by poor vision,
Once sparkled with allure and shone brightly.
These hands were once fresh, smooth, and felt sprightly,
Though now they tremble, void of precision.
This mouth, now sunken and full of gnashers,
Once gleamed with the shine of pearly white teeth.
A life once vibrant, fresh as blooming wreath,
Now murmurs soft through folds of old tatters.
These feet, worn and cracked, trudging so slowly,
Once romped in the bloom of youthful delight.
Though now calloused and bent, aching each night,
They had dreams, carried them with strength boldly.