Poems by Meg Mack by Margaret Mack - HTML preview

THE YEARS DO STING
Life is less joyous as old age creeps on And one no longer springs at dawn from bed Energetic, full of eager vim, Anticipating fun and love ahead. One groans and staggers, wallows in self-pity, Wondering darkly what the day will bring, Knowing one will be the butt of comments catty By younger women. How the years do sting! Old men prefer young women half their age, And men are at a premium to start. There is no comfort in the old adage That one finds love if love is in one’s heart. I long for love but being loved eludes me,