Growing Old Poem by Linda Dallas
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Growing Old
Gnarled and twisted
The hands of age
Oh to be able to turn back
The Page
Remember the intricate things
They have sewn
The pleasures of artistry
They have known
Gone is the supple
Movement of youth
It's called getting old
And that's Gods truth
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: aging
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Glancing at my hands as I sat down one day brought this to mind.
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
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Poems By Linda Dallas
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4/24/2024 10:12:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
