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by Kings Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Health · #429617
A man who is growing old and in poor health.

Growing Old

A thought just raced through my mind.
When I was young my health was fine.
That was then but now as I grow older,
Health is a condition and I can't recover.

I still hoe my row only now very slow.
My race I will run until it is all done.
Not let my condition stop my ambition.
Go out swinging while bells are ringing.

I refuse to give up because of my luck.
My illness I will fight with all my might.
Tombstone say he fought all the way.
Must accept a fate I am dealt to take.


I thank God for every moment I breathe.
Death I don't fear it's loved ones left here.
All I love in life is recycled in every way.
Gets harder each day health can sway.


What life has offered was once routine.
It's gone like a dream never again seen.
The best medicine is a good will power.
I will live if I have one thing left to give.

By: Kings
© Copyright 2002 Kings (tazzy1228 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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