Oh the cruel words of children to their elders, little do they know at their tender ages what it feels like to get older, for skin to sag and go sallow, hair to turn grey, veins to show on legs and teeth to yellow.
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I glance in the mirror and what do I see
the changes that time has wrought upon me.
I talk to my children and what am I told,
Give in, believe us, accept it, you’re old.
I flip through my scrap book, it’s filled with a lot
of faces remembered, their names long forgot.
I look in the mirror and what do I do,
Just sit here remembering, and feeling quite blue.