A balding gray haired sixty five year old male
My rhyming like me it has grown a bit stale
And some even advise me to give it away
But to such advice heed i never do pay
I penned my first verses back in my life's prime
And that is going back near four decades in time
I used to daydream then i might be a poet
Though i know now i will never become one of literary note
A rhymer back then and a rhymer today
I penned my first rhymes of old fields far away
I rhyme of people and Nature and things i read of hear and see
An addictive rhymer you find one in me
And though my worth as a rhymer i have reason to doubt
Still no shortage of things for me to write about.
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