I am young,
They are old.
Older than my father.
Older than my mother.
Their wrinkled skin,
Like crumpled paper.
With stiff joints,
Loving hearts,
Kind words spoken,
With crow like voices.
They watch us carefully,
Their young grandkids.
Years go by,
I grow older.
But I'm
Still young,
Because
They are old.
Like a tree,
I grow and mature.
Still my wrinkled guardians
Stay encouraging and kind,
As their grandchildren,
Make progress and strive.
The years increase,
The old leaves me.
But don't fret!
Others come along.
Soon I'm the old,
They become the new.
*This is the poem that I wrote for my own English class a long time ago, Enjoy!*
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryThese are poems that I just made up. Enjoy and comments would be gladly accepted :) #924 in Poetry (pictures are NOT my own) #174 in relate
