The beautiful women of my generation,
All old now and their looks obliterated.
Though it shouldn’t, this saddens me.
In their youth in movies and on TV
Their beauty seemed imperishable, but
Like dead roses, their looks have died,
A mournful reminder nothing lasts.
And so tragic their beauty was like a
Fleeting illusion in this impermanence.
Alas, if only these lovelies could have
Stayed young and beautiful forever.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
View all posts by BobBoyd
