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I am the youthful soul
Of an old man still standing.

He's not written anything in years
(Anything good, at any rate)
But I am adamant:
We rise at dawn,
Massage the old, stiff joints
And get to work.

There is so much dust to shake,
Wonderful memories to make,
Beautiful things to see,

People to love
The old treasure up above
And I insist
       We attend to it all.

I'm a spark in the night
A stubborn toddler at bedtime,
And he won't get rid of me that easy.
Kristin Dec 2020
Bankrupt of his majesty
the would-be, could-be king
falls into a paunchy old age
Quite literally

He was young once
the would-be, could-be mogul
fell into addiction, hard times
Quite typically

Now hobbling into oblivion
the would-have-been, could-have-been
falls for a younger princess in her thirties
Quite predictably

Standing taller
his would-have, should-have, could-have
falls away in the reverie of romance
Quite nicely for a time

Until his old habits hurt her
his should-be-s apply to her
falling in love hurts them both
Quite a bit

She was young once too
a would-be, still could-be
falling into the trap of thinking time is scarce
Quite often

She's teetering on oblivion
the would-have, could-have, should-have
falling for the allure of what-is-not
Quite hard

A patch of gray hairs dust her widow's peak
would-have, should-have covered them
falling in line with what's expected
Quite easily

Bankrupt of her majesty
the would-be, still could-be queen
rises into a vulnerable middle age
Quite determinedly
ketjil Oct 2019
I am afraid
Afraid to grow old
To have my hair turn white
And my hands grow gnarled
I am afraid
Of time
Shaping me
Making me
A different person
Changing me
I am afraid
To forget
The time
Long gone
I am afraid
Of running
Out of time

Greco Mar 2018
Youth is only accepted when the cameras are ready.
Pose for a picture by reason of Getty.
Gone are the days of sticks and stones and spilled milk.
We live in a melting *** that has been dropped and spilt.
This is not an adults swim only.
We will all jump into the pool.
This is not a land of first come, first serve.
I speak cause I’ve got nerve.
Our age is not a reflection of our IQ.
Our age is the tape that covers our mouths.
Our age is not a representation of our wisdom.
We won’t be seen and not heard.
Because our voices are the anthem of a rebellion.
I wrote this because so many adults in my life have tried to keep me from expressing my feelings.
Nora Jan 2017
She’s soft and smells like rose petals
Yet she scratches and scrubs
At blood red skin even though
It’s been washed a million times before
Tired eyes meet their match
In the silvery visage of their oldest friend

Crimson lips part, then furl
At the reflection who’s no longer a youthful girl
Auburn hair tumbling out of place,
Aging actress falling far from grace,
One clenched fist in a lace white glove
Eyelids dripping as she screams above
insp. by joan crawford
Johnny Nilsson Jun 2016
If you're
An angry young man
Going on 52
In a gang
With men in hoods
Off and on
Make them laugh
So you know
You're not
A grumpy old one
Just mad
Not bitter
And twisted
The Simple Art of Growing Old
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