Old Things

I see the rust,
On iron that lays around.
Decaying things,
That falls upon the ground.

I see new things,
That are full of mold.
Things in use so long,
That now are old.

I see words,
Written on a page.
That have laid around,
And yellowed in their age.

Misty...mildewed things,
That long have lain.
Their inward strength is gone,
And only part remains.

All things...go down,
A crumbling mass...they lay.
Nature is the conquerer,
All things must pass away.


E.P. 1908 - 1989