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I'm old!

Having just past another number on the calendar of my life. I pause to take stock! 
My hair is grey.
Except for the few strands that grow out of my nose that is shiny black, viral and earthy (except for the boogers)! and from my ears it's gossamer gold, light and have! My fingernails and toenails are strong and straight. Fingers are a little warped. My hands, soft and wrinkled have not one callous,  and forearms are a mess! every knife, saw, chisel, piece of glass, splinter and rusty nail has left their indelible marks. the little squamis cell cancers having been dug out  leave a white patch. and the warts moles funny bumps and hair all vie with the wrinkles for a space in the sun. If I lie on my back and lift an arm up, I get folds of what can only be described as "crepey skin" My former pecs, now boobs look nice if you don't mind the hair. The hair on my chest is grey and wispy, doesn't grow in any direction. My once V shape has sagged to a mexican question mark. I recently thought of modeling mens underwear, but have almost given up the idea. My thighs are a mere shadow of their former selves, and my calves while still cramping nicely are a disappointment. Growing old is ugly!

Posted on 11/27/2007 9:19 PM Visits: 82
annier: 11/28/2007 1:55 AM
I'm sure you are still young inside - just avoid standing in front of a mirror when naked!!
Native Girl: 11/28/2007 3:40 AM
growing old is not ugly though it is not pretty either..and where the hell is the list... you know.. the one that says old is this (not attractive) or this (not viable anymore) or this (not desirable and wanted) HUNH HUNH... I'll tell you this... I am so much happier knowing what I know now even though my ole lady bones give creaks and pops here and there.... oh, don't get me started...
tessy: 11/28/2007 11:48 AM
An Old Man's Winter Night


All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him -- at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off; -- and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man -- one man -- can't keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It's thus he does it of a winter night.

Robert Frost
tessy: 11/28/2007 11:52 AM
Old Man In The Park


By David Lewis



Old man why do you walk so slow?
To give me time to see the flowers grow.

Old man why do you stop and linger?
To listen to the birds, natures singer.

Old man why do you smile as lovers walk past?
I remember my youth, which passed so fast.

Old man what is your wish for the world today?
That people love people, stop wars without delay.

Old man who is the Lady by your side?
My wife, now almost seventy years a bride.

Old man,sometimes you look sad, then smile!
Come walk with me, share my dreams, down the last enchanted mile.
Rhiwena: 12/10/2007 11:42 AM
thanks for givin us all such hope for the future.
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