Getting old
In the winter
I cry from up my nose
My eyes always , red and blurry
If I get cold my toes fall off
Where they go I am at a loss
Never find them in my shoes
And my boots rub my ankles
Feels like rubbing them with sand paper
To a lovely rose gloss
In my day
I was. Road runner baby
I’m a road runner
And you sweet
Are the one I like to use
...
Not sure I will write more.
Sep 10, 2020
Sep 10, 2020 at 8:19 AM UTC
Getting old
In the winter
I cry from up my nose
My eyes always , red and blurry
If I get cold my toes fall off
Where they go I am at a loss
Never find them in my shoes
And my boots rub my ankles
Feels like rubbing them with sand paper
To a lovely rose gloss
In my day
I was. Road runner baby
I’m a road runner
And you sweet
Are the one I like to use
...
Not sure I will write more.
😔
Love P@ul. XXX
Request permission to use this poem