Monday, January 30, 2012

Aging

Aging

At my aching age
At this breaking stage
When harsh quaking days
Fly by in a haze
It’s not easy to gauge
Whose wisdom is sage.
I grope through the daze
Of a maze of yeas and nays.
I rage at the cage
And don’t like the wage
That life pays in this phase.
My mind starts to craze
Like an over-baked glaze.
Time razes my days
As it amazingly slays.

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