Twilight Years

by Hal Stevens

One hates to admit that
He is losing it,,
His sensitive touch,
The creeping Neuropathy
In hands and feet,
The slowing down of
His quick wit and
Grasp of passing thoughts.

But ole Father Time is
Winning the race toward
The end.
The ravages of time have
Finally caught up with me.....

My swift and nimble fingers
Have slowed to a time
Consuming “hunt and peck”
Perhaps this will be my
Last effort at writing poetry.....
So, I bid my dear friends
Farewell and Godspeed