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I don't normally feel sorry for myself, or for the fact that I am older,but I DO sometimes regret the limitations put on me by life. Not just my age and arthritis, mind you, but by the fact that I am really younger than other people think I am...or they are. I am ready to hit the road and do something daring, just like in my younger days, but I have too much tying me to this spot, and I must stay. That saddens me sometimes and I cannot explain how having to stay makes me ache inside, and going would make me hurt as badly.

On Growing Old

Mid all the trees I see,
Others who are much like me.
Lost in the woods, surrounded by,
Things which creep, or crawl, or fly,
But each one always passing by.

If I too had wings to fly
Beyond the trees and past the hill,
And past the pond,
I'd flap, and flap, and flap all night
'Til all was safely out of sight.

My wings today are clipped
I've only roots
And I am bound to stay,
Until if I someday die, and shall, in truth.

Escape for me?
No other way.

I once was proud and brave and bold
Before clock and calendar and days
Combined to make me into old,
Unable to escape this time
But ever here to stay, I fear.

No, my roots have grown too deep
And fortune's trail is for younger souls
I'll just pass each day in waking sleep
Until a final sunrise finds me cold

by Donovan Baldwin
Oct 30, 2008

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Donovan Baldwin
Hurst, TX 76053

Original poetry by Donovan Baldwin

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On Growing Old - An Original Poem by Donovan Baldwin
Page Updated 3:02 PM Saturday 12/7/2013