Old Men Poem by John Stetson

Old men dwell on living well
They still aspire although they tire
Spry or stiff they live as if
They won't collapse or soon expire
Like it or not they've made their lot
And learned to live with what they've got
But in their mind they know their kind
Won't come again so they remind
All those around what they could do
When the world was younger and they were, too
But I think this kind of kind revision
Is likely just another loss of vision