Donde el río termina - Poema
Por esos años que no volverán
aquel que en su lozanía vio tan lejos
el ocaso de sus días...
Cada cabello gris acumula historias,
leyendas y fábulas contadas...
y otras tantas que nadie conocerá.
Sombra vana es la vida; flor silvestre la piel.
Herencia de los años las arrugas
y regalo del tiempo la ceguera
El dolor de espalda le recuerda
que el verdor de la vida se acaba
no importa cuanto juguemos al adolescente;
los años no se compran el las tiendas
By @guilleoro
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Es un privilegio llegar a la vejes, tantas vivencias, tantas historias que contar. Ojala Dios nos de la oportunidad de llegar a la vejes con fuerza y salud. muy buen post @guilleoro.