Time to turn the clock back, stealing time from us.
That’s what the ticking clock does, a slow-moving thief.
First you wonder where your youth disappeared to
Then middle age brings on the moody moments too often.
Old age, God bless us.
No one warned us how hard for some of us it could be.
Aches and pains in places you never heard of in your youth.
I can hear those lucky ones, fit in mind and body,
Saying life is good. Well, bully for you
Not all of us are as lucky…
© Anita Dawes 2021