Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Growing Older

Another poem I wrote off an internet prompt a few years ago.

It seems my days of youth are over.
The next generation continues 
the heritage,
praising God 
and making it the best they can.
Alas, I can no longer join them, the sap of my bones
has seeped 
and my muscles are weak like 
a frayed rope.
It gives me great joy to see 
the children play 
under a shining sun 
and laughing 
as they tumble and talk.
My rocking chair continues to sway on my ancient porch,
and I thank God for letting me
 live to see them. 

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