A poem of growing old, and reflecting on life. |
I sat once (upon a park bench), next to an old man who looked so alone. His eyes looked weak and weary, and his face looked made of stone. He struck a conversation (As old men do), about his younger years, He said "I once was a daring strapping lad, much more than what you see here I once stood atop the highest of mountains, I once conquered the strongest of seas. I once had many of young gorgeous lasses, swoon and fall at the sight of me. I once had many of friends that would stand by me, through the thick and through the thin. I once had many of medals, from all my victories, my wins. But now those mountains that I climbed, no longer seem so great a feat. And those seas that i'd once conquered, seem now to be very weak. And all those beautiful girls, are either dead or settled down. I never took a chance with them, my true love, I never found. And all those I friends that once stood by me, I have now outlived them all. And those medals I had that I was so proud of, are now rusted upon my wall. Take what you want from these words I say, perhaps there is a lesson to be learned. No matter what great feats you do in life, one day you'll just be ashes in an urn." |