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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:34:20 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 156298
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => 91 years old
[time] => 2009-12-28 11:16:27
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I know the map of the world like the back of my hand Every vein and wrinkle a river that cuts through the land History would not be a lesson taught from a book But lived through a lifetime that time slowly took I am a stamp on a postage mailed through the ages To fields and valleys untouched by modern cages I am a rock on a hill destined to be rolled For I am a living tale told; still alive at 91 years old I see my youth in the faces of my grand children They are the hearing in my ears The young to my old years They are the sight in my eyes Seeing what often passes me by They are the movement to my body Moving fast while I move slowly They are the smile in my dentures My dreams lived through their adventures If my life was a pie then they would be the filling I’ve seen winters and I’ve seen springs My share of politicians and kings I’ve seen loved ones pass, while my children grow Ships of summer passing by like the river’s flow If you want to live the life of a man with taste Don’t get lost in the land of small laid to waste For I’ll see you further on down that long road To a place of plenty at 91 years old [comments] => 0 [counter] => 135 [topic] => 43 [informant] => zedwards [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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