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The Old Timer
Contributed by
tsw
on
Wednesday, 10th March 2004 @ 12:03:40 PM in AEST
Topic:
Grief
|
In an old box car, on an old wooden track,
In the middle of nowhere, flat on my back...
Holes In my shoes,not a comb for my hair,
pockets full of dust, and I just don't care...
My jeans are torn,my face Is a mess,
the beard I grow, likens to a nest...
My teeth all out, my eye's kinda dim,
the color of yellow, take's to my skin...
My feet they hurt, my bone's they ach,
got a real bad feeling I'm about to break...
My heart grows tired,my soul grows cold,
is this what it's like, getting and growing old?
The mind works slower, and not like it should,
I think It once did, or was it once could...
It,s time this body, took It a rest.
there,s no more vigor,no more zest...
In an old box car,on an old wooden track,
I ponder existance, flat on my back
TSW
11-22-99
Copyright ©
tsw
... [
2004-03-10 12:03:40]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Old Timer
(User Rating: 1 )
by arden on
Wednesday, 10th March 2004 @ 12:23:46 PM AEST
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a Message)
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wonderfully written. love how it all flows together. very nicely done good work.
Arden |
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Re: The Old Timer
(User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on
Wednesday, 10th March 2004 @ 01:26:59 PM AEST
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a Message)
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i love this, simply gorgeous:) hugs n' love nessa
@->>->- |
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Re: The Old Timer
(User Rating: 1 )
by Rakerman1999 on
Wednesday, 10th March 2004 @ 01:34:03 PM AEST
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a Message)
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Simply excellent poetry.
Very well done
Larry |
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