I spy Treasure Island with a telescope
Peter Pan, forever young
And walking with a brass cane
old man on the pier looking out
like Tiny Tim, forever young
through the wrong end of the telescope
he's an old sea-dog again
on the Spanish Main with Captain Kidd
and Long John Silver his hearty shipmate.
Succinct but nevertheless very thought-provoking, Kenny. Your poem makes me realize how time flies and "age" never stops "aging." Love and peace to you,
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Regis
Love ya!
Jane