<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519982" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old Thoughts (Imagine: I'm aging)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">- The winter wind blows through the cracks<br>Around an old window pane, <br>It mournfully howls a brooding tune<br>Flashing images of age into my brain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Time walks on<br>Always at a steady pace, <br>Continuously spitting dirt<br>In humanities face.<br>The elderly forced to wear age<br>Worn and weary, <br>Towards the end<br>No longer in such a hurry.<br>For all who long enough live<br>Age shall wear old upon old, <br>Yet amazingly for so many<br>The soul refuses to grow cold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">- (more thoughts come in, with the wind) <br>I'm alone <br>And barely breathing<br>Ecclesiastes is the book<br>I prefer these days to be reading.<br>Quietly pondering and listening<br>I know time is winding down, <br>For increasingly, in the wind I hear drawing near<br>A far off inescapable sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far too soon spring buds turn<br>Into fall's dried and dead leaves. <br>So short are the sweet summer birdsongs<br>Hence, south they have flown<br>Leaving behind empty, old and brittle trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So many May days<br>Have come and gone, <br>It all starts to sound<br>Like the same old melancholy song.<br>The falls not much changed<br>From the spring, <br>'Cept the lack of desire<br>To jump and sing.<br>Winter's chill draws closer than ever <br>And summer is far gone, <br>Cheap thrills no longer seem so clever<br>As days grow short, and nights long.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes 'old' is the way to say<br>We are running beyond<br>Our youthful days, <br>But, old shall take us step-by-step<br>To the end, of ourselves, and<br>To the end of all that is here wrong, <br>Slowly returning us from exile, back<br>To where we started, and<br>Have always belonged.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">- Through this broken pane tonite<br>The wild wind yet blows, <br>Mysteriously whispering epic secrets<br>About age, life, and meaning....... <br>The outcome of which, we must trust<br>God alone fully knows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Smoky+Hoss">Smoky Hoss</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519982" data-title="Old Thoughts (Imagine: I'm aging) de Smoky Hoss" data-description="- The winter wind blows through the cracks Around an old window pane, It mournfully howls a brooding tune Flashing images of age into my brain. Time walks on Always at a steady pace, Continuously spitting dirt In humanities face. The elderly fo..."></div> </div> </div>

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