When a Man Grows Old

he wonders where his life has gone
with so little of himself left to get up in the mornings

the playful boy has a new home
and now walks the banks of the river
skipping stones with other boys

the young builder puts away his tools
to watch other young men build things

the wise gray-haired gentleman
living to counsel others
forgets more than he remembers
and concentrates on not spilling his morning coffee

the old man, living all week for a sunday walk
just sits in his chair, watching birds on the feeder
thinking of all that has been
wondering why autumn leaves surrender to the winter snow

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This entry was posted in Free Verse Poetry, Introspective Poetry, Poems about Aging by Don Iannone. Bookmark the permalink.

About Don Iannone

Don Iannone is a poet, writer, teacher and photographer who lives in the Greater Cleveland area. He has worked in the economic development field for over 35 years. Don is the author of three poetry books and five photography books. He is working on a short book of photographs and poems about human trafficking. This work was exhibited at six venues in Ohio. Don holds an M.A. degree in Art and Consciousness Studies from the University of Philosophical Research in Los Angeles, where he teaches writing. His educational background also includes studies in Anthropology, Photography, Organizational Behavior, and Economic Development. Don’s website: http://www.donaldiannone.com Wisdom Work Press: https://wisdomworkpress.wordpress.com

12 thoughts on “When a Man Grows Old

  1. There so much magic in this poem …its never been so poetical to grow old but here you are your brought the magic into to growing old a face that it is sad to look at but everyone of us has to go through

  2. This one got me — maybe it’s just because I’m alone tonight, but I was really taken by this. I need to cheer up, though. πŸ™‚
    p.s.- I haven’t forgotten about the song, I’m just in the middle of getting school started.

  3. Thanks Polona. Indeed that is true.

    Nasra: Thank you. As they say, there’s alway tomorrow, or the next incarnation. (Unless of course one believes we go around but once).

    Aurora: Thank you and glad you liked it.

    Andrew: Thanks. Best not allow aging to get to you (us). That too is life. Songs can wait. The kids need your music more.

    Floots: Thanks. And me too. I am growing to love the word “grace.” Everyday it means more and more to me.

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