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Slowly ticking, the clock,
the leaves outside turn burnish brown.
Where once green leaves flourished,
naked branches, drop crispy leaves to the ground.
Likened to the scenary, I age,
my once black hair is now dull to the light.
Where once shine and sheen lived,
thinning patches, is now covered in white.
Making room, the new generation,
grinding and bumping to inaudible rap.
Where once a tiny loving face smiled,
moving ahead, please make your way to the back.
Here I sit, waiting patiently,
my bones are aching from the dreaded age.
Where once was a fresh new chapter,
it's now time, to turn the last page.
Slowly ticking, the clock,
the leaves outside are a lively green.
Where once the air was bitter cold,
abundant branches, the new coming of Spring.
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