Topic: Old Age
I'm afraid this is about me.
Old Age. Phill Williams.
She comes home from the market.
Her hands full of bags.
I jump to my feet and get more from the car.
I see the look on her face and I know I've forgot.
Things I should do, but I know I have not.
The floor that needs sweeping.
The clothes to the wash.
The sink full of dishes.
My memory's gone!
Conversations I recall. Thirty years old.
Conversations yesterday, I'm afraid I don't know.
A face stands before me it smiles and says “hi”.
I smile back to her, but I don't know just why?
We met just last week, we spoke and discussed.
To me you're a stranger, I'm really not nuts.
Her voice is accusing.
Her eyes go all red.
I just get distracted.
My mind is a mess.
Some songs I've been singing since 1963.
Have gone line by line from my failing memory.
New songs? Forget it, they wont stay in place.
The one thing I remember is....
I'm becoming “old age”.