A thief called Age stole my young sweet self

And stuffed me in an old woman’s body

This old crone is certainly not me

And I really don’t know who she is

I do not recognize her wrinkled face

And where oh where has Age hidden me?

Only my eyes twinkle a glint of recognition

Peering out from saggy wrinkled holes,

In a face that time has worn away

And it doesn’t even resemble mine

One day I was strong, smooth and firm,

I was quite a splendid sweet young thing

Then Age came sneaking and stole my body,

Leaving me in this pruned and wrinkled wreck.

A miserable fiendish thief Age is,

She’s sure to steal me blind

Taking all of what’s long been mine

Until finally fleeing her indignities,

I’ll accept her win and fly away.

But that will not be today.

Former print journalist, former mayor, retired law enforcement officer. Writing about politics and government along with random personal essays.

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