ON GROWING OLD
Our latter years can be as gray
As many a tedious winter day.
The hours can be as hard to fill
As Sisyphus pushing a rock uphill.
We’ve learned what it is to love and lose.
To live this long we did not choose.
Some days it’s hard to get out of bed
And fill the empty time ahead.
On other days the sun will throw
A pink and orange sunset glow
Across the gray and gloomy skies
And we will come to realize
That like Frost’s snow-dispatching jay
Delight can come at the end of the day.
Leave a Reply