Sun Sets - An Original Poem

Sitting at the corner of this lonely world,
Old age charges at me, swiftly
Like a mad buffalo.

I dodge; I polish my face.
I dodge; I shave my grey beards
I dodge; I dye my hair
I dodge; I smash my mirror

Old age grips my waist,
Throwing me to the floor.
My eyes are dim;
I stagger;

Furrows feast on my once fine face
My legs wobble
My hips aching
Like palms spread across the night fire.

I envy little children
For they have great days ahead of them
Alas! Old age has twisted my ribs!
Sun sets, who can tell if I'll see sunrise?

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