It is obvious that time it has become his foe
He is not the man he was Seasons ago
The hair on his balding head as white as snow
And the legs that did run fast are now walking slow
Back in the days when his hair was light brown
He was the most famous athlete in the town
Against the best runners in the Country with success he did compete
A three in a row National eight hundred metres champion athlete
An octogenarian great grandfather his wife in the cemetery lay
And he is one who has known of a far better day
On his last birthday in March he turned eighty three
He is just a shadow of the man that he used to be
Back in the days when his legs could run fast
All he has now are memories of the past.
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