Walking in ancient footsteps,
Wisdom of age unseen,
By glaring eyes of youth,
As I plod doggedly along,
Following well-trodden paths
Of those gone before.
Ignored as they were ignored,
As those mocking me now,
Speaking over and around me,
Will in turn: be ignored.
Such is the fate we pay,
For gracing this world with age,
For not dying young.
They think I am mad,
As I laugh to myself,
Shaking my head knowingly,
A silly old fart past his prime,
Only good for telling stories,
Tending the young,
Taking up space,
Shameful to be so old,
Undignified, purposeless,
Slipping slowly into senility.
‘Idiots’ I mutter, shuffling by,
Knowing in my ambling gait,
They see their own demise,
And their proud youth sniggers,
The fools don’t even know it,
But their confident strut is also,
Walking in ancient footsteps.
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