Posts Tagged ‘wrinkles’

If we met by chance


The woman you passed by today
You didn’t even know
Because her face wears wrinkles
And her hair is white as snow

Yet, your hair is just a fringe now
Around a balding pate
Your wrinkles hide behind a beard
And you’ve added lots of weight

You use a cane to get around
And your shuffle gait is slow
Your old physic has gone awry
Where did those young years go

I’m the girl you said you loved
When we were young and spry
But the cutie, as you called me then
Has also watched years fly

I know it was “way back then”
And we were not to be
But if we met some place by chance
Would you remember me

9/7/01 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

6’th … Indiana NPD – 2002

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            PASSING MY PRIME


It’s been said life slips away much too fast,

And all that’s left are echoes of the past.

I thought, they can’t be right about old age,

For I will dance forever on life’s stage.

I felt challenged to accept in good grace

These wrinkles running rampant on my face.

The aches and pains that trouble here and there

Are minor problems I have learned to bear.

The years of dye that keeps my hair dark red

Hide strands of silver growing on my head.

I don’t embrace the ravages of time

Though I am past the point considered prime.

          I’d like to think that what they say are lies,

          But this old body’s saying otherwise.


11/21/95    Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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FITTING THE MOLD?                   


What can be said about aging

That hasn’t been said before …

White hair, balding, and wrinkles,

Age spots and even more.


Canes and walkers and liniment,

Forgetting little things.

Tiring all too quickly, I hear,         

Can be what aging brings.


Yet that is just my body, friend,

My mind is still not old.

Just take a look beyond my frame          

Where I don’t fit that mold.


All I can do, is ignore its grasp —

Old is ten years ahead,

And for each decade that I meet,

The same can still be said.



8/16/05       Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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I know my hair has turned snow-white,

And I walk rather slow.

I know that I’m forgettin’ things

You think that I should know.                                                         


I do get rather grumpy now.                                                   

Well, just a tiny touch.                                                  

Yes, wrinkles decorate my face,                                             

And weight’s a bit too much.                                                 


But I want to advocate right now,                       

T.V. needs cleanin’ up – – –

You think I’m harking back to days

They used a mustache cup.


I loath what’s rap, both song and dance,

With  tunes that can’t be sung.

And potty–mouths and disrespect,

Now coming from the young.


If we used words  like kids today,

For us there was no hope – –

Since Mom marched us in the house

And washed our mouths with soap.


In every form of programed fare,

Breast-bulge and bare backside                    

Jiggle and wiggle and “flash” us all,

And the men are goggle-eyed.                    


Now, I’m not sayin’ it’s ugly,

But in case you didn’t know,

We had those things from Eve to now,

But we didn’t let ‘em show.  



9/24/06      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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Who’s that lady mirrored there

          It surely can’t be me

That’s an old and wrinkled face

          And I feel twenty-three


Look at all that graying hair

          Could that possibly be

It should be a golden brown

          I’m sure it isn’t me


Is that a hair on her chin

          It is, with certainty

Now she dons bifocals

          I know that isn’t me


Then in walks my loving mate

          And he says chidingly

“How ya doin’, Old Gal?”

          DARN! I must admit it’s me


6/3/88         Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

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They stood there, just the two of them.

A tear fell from her eye.

Life makes unfortunate changes,

And this time ’twas good-bye.


“To you, Old House,” he tipped his hat,

“You sheltered me and mine.

You weren’t much to gaze upon,

But served our needs just fine.”


She leaned her head against his arm,

He stroked her wrinkled cheek.

Tears were making it rather hard

For them to even speak.


She closed her eyes, then memory

Returned her to the past,

When as a bride she entered here —

Seems time flew by so fast.


“Old House, if you could only speak,”

She said, with heavy heart,

“We’d reminisce about the years,

From now, back to the start.


Your walls were arms around us.

They kept us warm and dry

And shared our joys and heartaches

As years went rushing by.


Is that a tear I see, Old House,

Trickling down your pane?

A skeptic would dismiss it

As just a bit of rain.


But I know you weep, Old House,

Your days are numbered, too,

And time is short for each of us,

It pains me, but it’s true.


You know your life is over.

Ours nears that time, too,

But, oh, weren’t they wonderful,

Those years we shared with you?”


 Then turning to the man, she said,

“I’m sure the Old House speaks.

It said it’s glad we lived here.”  

He replied, “It only creaks.”


“But if it had a voice,” she said,

“It would beg us, not to leave.

It would shelter us ’til death comes,

Then we would not grieve.”


“My Dear,” he said, “It’s time to go.

Let’s do it without fuss.

We raised a fine family here,

Now they’ll take care of us


I know it’s hard to leave our home,

And it doesn’t matter when,

But wouldn’t it have been far worse,

Had house and years not been?”


He took her hand — they turned away —

They smiled through their tears.

“To you, Old House,” he said once more,

“Thanks for all those years.”


7/21/90 –   Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck


1’st … Ark.N.P.D. 1994

2’nd … N.F.S.P.S. 1994

2’nd … Ind.N.P.D. 1995

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