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HumptyDumpty

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)


I Spot A Spot, My Spot

I’ve noticed that in getting older,
   Things begin to change.
I have grown wiser, but not bolder –
   Yet, I don’t find that strange. 

Perhaps the two are never matching –
   Is it e’er wise to chance?
A fall from heights and you’ll need patching;
   Ask Humpty Dumpty’s aunts. 

I rise some mornings with an aching,
   As though the bed gave blows;
And fingers take so long in waking –
   Old Arthur, I suppose. 

And fewer things on me are working;
   And some that do, not well.
Now what’s that sudden pain, or jerking?
   Is there a voodoo spell? 

And oft these days, I look, am finding
   A spot not there at birth.
Dalmatian, me?  I am not minding
   While I have spot on earth.

———————————————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

 

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      Body And Mind

Now that I’m old and tired,
My mind outstrips the flesh,
Like rowdy pup runs rings around
Its mother, staying fresh.

It was not always so.
The mind once simple was,
And stayed at home in bed or lap,
Like flowers in a vase.

And then, in middle years,
The two raced equally,
A sailor taking worthy craft
To sail upon the sea.

But now the old ship’s tired;
The sails are ragged, torn.
Still, sailor has a mind to sail
That’s triggered by each morn.

For some there comes a day
I’ve seen in other men,
When racing mind and sailing ship
Run both the same again.

No – body does not mend;
That craft is slower yet.
The mind drops back to match its pace
Just as when first they met.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

 

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