"Old Hands" - A Sonnet by Duncan Cary Palmer
"Grow old with me. The best is yet to be."
- Robert Browning -
Time to "try my hand" at something new.
Original to Steemit, I've written a sonnet about aging.
Old Hands - Original image by Duncan Cary Palmer
Old Hands
by Duncan Cary Palmer
Though creases and white hair adorn my face,
My image in the glass I soon forget.
More pressing problems rapidly replace
Awareness that, to time, I've paid a debt.
But even as I ply each daily round,
Two sentinels remind me of my plight.
Avoid them, I cannot, for without sound,
Relentlessly they torment, day and night.
I see them as each task I execute.
No respite will they grant, no judgement stay.
The fact they herald, I cannot refute.
They tell me Father Time has had his way.
My two hands tell a story, plain and bold.
I can’t escape their truth; I’ve become old.
~FIN~
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The quote doesn't look like Wordsworth. I think your link might be confusing it with the first two lines of Robert Browning's Rabbi Ben Ezra
Thank You!
Thank you very much, my friend. Great catch!
That's what I get for my casual reliance on quote-harvesting websites...
I have, thanks to your sharp eye, fixed this!
I'm so glad you got to me during the edit window...
😄😇😄
!!!The Editing Window!!! --- yes, a nightmare for conscientious poets!
Indeed... I am trying very hard to influence the "movers and shakers" to fix that and allow us permanent edit access... I've written four articles and countless comments about it, so far...
Your hands don't look old. They look mature. :)
Nice euphemism! ;)
These hands look like two slightly different hands. C'est la vie! Another experience being old is.
Indeed!
The more old you grow, the more richer your bank of knowledge gets :)
Yes, that's how it ought to work... ;)
Nice content. Followed you :)
BEAUTIFUL!
Thank you, my friend...
that's a smart thinking
That's life 😐
Yep.
hands are like mirrors for your soul they will tell you what have you done so far in your life...
Thank you, @jzeek, for your thoughtful comment... :)
Yes, hands are an amazing metaphor.
I have to say the "golden years" aren't so golden from what I can tell...
True dat' - but I guess they beat the alternative! ;)
Fifty is the watershed - before that, when a waitress calls you, Hon, it means one thing, after fifty, something entirely different
It is you, not I, who have been carried from before you were born.
Indeed, when you were still in the womb, I was taking care of you.
And when you are old, I will still be there, carrying you.
When your limbs grow tired, your eyes are weak,
And your hair a silvery gray, I will carry you as I always have.
I will carry you and save you
Thank you, friend John, for reminding me of those precious promises... :D