Uncountable mornings
Came by so quick
leaving a wrinkled man
behind it
Tragic ,
The wrinkled man is me .

Coming out of trance
smiling at those past thoughts
I stood up
starting my Turtle journey
I walked down the towerd streets
wobbled on my way
Saw a group of folks pass by
swaying their skateboards
Impressive! I must say .
But only did the young feet knew
It was something
I had mastered too .

Halting on my track
noticing my shoe lace
but bending would bring much ache
Just then
one fine man
Approaches me for a helping hand
Oh ! how ironic,
I was once that same young gent
Thanking the act of kindness
I took a turn to left
which led my hault
There sat my pals
laughing so loud
within me the fear sprouts
that theri lungs may blow out

Slowly taking my place
Noticing how all the laugh
died down
Looking up meeting the staring gaze
We all bursted out
Laughing just like old times

Interruption want long after
sighing at the constant loud bass
I wonder how these morons
didn't like the genre Jazz
Even though it's nothing I don't mind
these ears of 79
has its limit line

Departing from the oldies
counting me as their buddies
I went back to a place
made of bricks , cement and sand
Tranquility filled the air
As I looked at the frame hung there
Smiling at my wife ,whose long dead .