Old Age is a Love

March 23, 2009
By poetry4lyfe BRONZE, Coram, New York
poetry4lyfe BRONZE, Coram, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Old Age is a love
Dying seems unbearable through the eyes of the living.
But dying is beautiful through the eyes of the dead
Wrinkles, sags, and bags
All connected to old age.

Old age is a love,
When you know life has been rough
But through the rubble a dove emerges.
Pure as sunlight
Tough as a concrete wall
Old age has its downfalls:
Fallen darlings caught in life’s temptations.
She willingly pledged allegiance to that which kills,




To that which hates,




To that which causes death of the soul.
Lost Dreams:
Trivial matters, blockage of arterial passions.
A man is so surrounded with humanity’s flavor, that he forgets his own signature taste.

Sorrowful Regrets are the embodiment of a life wasted.
Death comes unexpectedly,
Wonderingly, he seizes you by your extended fingernails across a cool blue streaked floor.

Though vulnerability prowls restlessly around the old, they have been independent.
Asking nothing.
Accepting little.
Doing everything.

Old age is a love, then and only then
Can one enjoy the refreshing lemon zest of a retirement fund!


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