A time will
come when we are old and gray,
A chip off the
old block, they’ll call us someday.
They’ll say
we’re wise, a flattering name,
But wisdom and
age don’t always mean the same.
We’ll sit on
rocking chairs, our bodies at ease,
We’ll tell our
grandkids stories, their curiosity to please.
We’ll pour our
wisdom to the village, our legacy to share,
But all will
depend on one simple fact: what we have left to spare.
They say,
‘enjoy your youth, cry at old age,’
But youth can
be a trap, a reckless stage.
If we spoil
ourselves with pleasures, we’ll end up with a crowd,
Too many mouths
to feed, too many cries too loud.
But if we tend
our fields with care, and water them with love,
We’ll reap a
bountiful harvest, a blessing from above.
We’ll have
enough to live on, and enough to give away,
We’ll bless our
old age with joy, and not with dismay.
When it comes
to our brains, we should sharpen them in youth,
For it is wise
to fight this hard economy, with a brain that’s keen and shrewd.
This will open
doors for us, to dine with kings and queens,
This will earn
us respect and honor, when we’re old and lean.
Youthful days
are like a mist, they vanish in a blink,
We make friends
and lose them, we love and hate and think.
We wonder why
we wasted time, on those who broke our hearts,
We wonder why
we let them in, and let them tear us apart.
We smile and we
frown, we laugh and we cry,
But the truth
is, we’re getting old, time is passing by.
We can’t undo
what we have done, we can’t erase the past,
We can only
hope and pray, that our good deeds will last.
Old age is
near, what moments to enjoy?
They seem to
fade away, like a broken toy.
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