GROWING OLD

MERHABA MY FRIEND

HE SITS IN HIS FAVORITE PLACE
UPON HIS FAVORITE ROCK
AND HE TURNS HIS BACK
TO THE WORLD.

HIS MIND RACING
CHASING IMAGES
NO CHANCE OF CATCHING
HIS MEMORY FADING
WITH THE YEARS.

HE SITS FOR HOURS
IN DARKNESS OF MIND
AND DEAFNESS OF SOUND
TRYING TO REMEMBER
YEARS GONE BY.

TEARS FALL
WITH SHAKING HANDS
HE COVERS HIS FACE
HAS HE LIVED HIS LIFE
HE CAN`T RECALL.

NO SHOULDER TO CRY ON
NO ARMS TO EMBRACE
NO SOOTHING WORDS
NO EASING THE PAIN.

GROWING OLD
IS HARD TO BARE
YOUR ALL ALONE
AND THE WORLDS OUT THERE.

TURK :(}