I am an old man
named after my grandfather
Clyde. It means 'strong horse.'
Not a bad metaphor. When you've
lived three score and ten,
of course.
How many more years
can I endure?
If I could start over
there'd be some things I'd
change and some I'd
leave alone.
It's moot, just a dream.
I'll vanish one day
like a mist the
wind blows away.
How much time
do I have left?
No one can say.
So, please, abide
with me awhile,
give me your hand,
please stay, please stay.
Hi Smoky. I'm sorry for this late reply to your comment. Thank you for reading.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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