Rock-a-bye old man

in his recliner.

There’s little he thinks of

that could be finer.


He’s losing command

of where he had prowess.

Much of what he had once

he has had to relinquish.


He does understand

that his life is declining.

About all he can do

is fiddle with rhyming.


Rock-a-bye old man.

Perhaps he will sleep.

Old age certainly

has promises to keep.


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