Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Growing old

All that you cribbed about, appears nice and rosy.
Every crappy note scribbled , seems pretty prosy
Every struggling rhyme ,sublime poetry
Every common person is a veritable gentry

Your textbooks, school, your songs of old
you are still , completely out and out,  sold
What are you? Some peddler of fool's gold?
Methinks you ought to stop , you should

Every age has its day
You have had your way
Now let the lads today
Have their own say.

1 comment:

  1. the sun shines and so do you,
    don't talk of habiliments,
    they are meant to be changed ,so please do

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