Dripping drop of rain shadow my view.
While the fog turns the spectacles pail, It becomes
hard for me to see.although its been decades, I still remember the outside as if i have been
the fancy walks in suits rushing to the train station, A newspaper symbolized
you'd find young men lined up by the bus stations selling all there ever was.
the sole purpose was as mine, to buy a house and no nights out. we were so caught up in work
when home in books. the clock was steady then, if not i wouldn't be 85 now.

Now the clock spins faster than a bottle.
Now, men wear tights cur from the bottom.
Something not even women did in my time but let me not compare.
My niece always nags to me about how i should get a cellular phone but if i'm not
buy the bookshelf's at home, Then i'm home. The young seem to not understand what
life truly is. because now to live is to grasp all there is, with the same number of hands we used
back then. No wonder the youth is always occupied,
no wonder explaining life gains you laughs.
Although its been a decade since i stepped out, I fear i wont make another
i fear the fate of mankind is lost forever.