It’s no good pretending,
We all grow old some day
Our lives are forward tending
In time we all go grey!
But many friends leave us too soon
By the Grim Reaper scythed
They vanish from our afternoon…
Just memories survive.
So, we owe it to ourselves to be
As pro-active as we can
Appreciation is the key:
Old Age – a precious clan!
We think of those who’ve gone before;
They spark our memory cells
Recalling them makes feelings raw
But kindness always tells …
(c) Poet in the woods 2025
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