The Hardest Part Of Growing Old Poem by John Yaws

I stepped into the small café,
Pulled up myself a chair…
The waitress washing dishes-
Just one old man was there.

I ordered me a chicken-fried,
Cream gravy on the side…
I saw the old man swallow hard-
It must have been his pride.

He hobbled over to me…
Said, "Son, I'm solid broke-
Could you stand me to a cup of joe-
And just one pack of smokes"?

He said, "It's hard to be a bum-
I always paid my way.
I helped a lot of people out-
Back in my younger days.

No longer will they let me drive…
I don't have any folks.
Takes all I have just to survive.
Just a broken down cowpoke.

We sat and talked the day away-
Just this old man and I.
He still had lots of character…
He'd look you in the eye.

He told me tales of yesteryear-
When he was in his prime.
And as he rode down memory's lane,
How his old eyes did shine.

I asked, him, as we parted ways-
Please tell me if you can…
The hardest part of growing old?
He thought for just a span-

He said, "The hardest part of all-
When you see your life's near done…
Is thinking of the time you waste-
When you are strong and young".