Turning Old

Age slips,

Dream flips,

Flips into goals.

Hair turn grey

From black like coals.

That’s why we say,

We’re turning old.
Satisfaction trips,

Appetite drips,

Drips like stocks.

Tasteless things we eat,

Feels only warm or cold.

That’s why we say,

We’re turning old.
Expectations tall,

Big would be the fall,

Fall from the height achieved.

For the child who won’t follow,

As we told.

That’s why we say,

We’re turning old.
Breath stops,

Heart throbs,

Gives everyone else an attack.

It’s the end of the innings,

I’ll love to play bold.

That’s why I say,

I’m turning old.

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