Windows to the Soul

Henry's Views

Old age —
The sunken eyes, the knotted brow,
A bony body chained in a cage
Limps about like a withered sow.

You have seen the years fly away,
And friends and lovers no longer attend,
But memories, they abound and stay.
Your reckoning? Not a merry end.

Youth’s beauty has long since gone,
Yet your eyes, they still dance to song!
So a furtive sparkle still appears
In this ancient face despite the years.

All Poetry — Henry Barnard

My Story

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