rolingstone Poetry (1)

There you stand, in front of your mirror, Hair in hand
Fifty going on sixty, Your face is showing a map of the lines, of the good times.
O when you were young, all the songs you sung, all the young men and boys
Dancing at your feet, to you they were nothing but trinkets and toys.
Your children are all gone, your lovers have departed, and you have carved a name in the stars,
Do you still remember the roses thrown at your feet, The news and reviews you use to read?
Or just me in my old blue jeans, standing somewhere out there in the cold,
Or was I just another lover, one to sow some seed, one of your have been’s, or is it just that you are growing old?
O but do you remember when, the rain were soft, the wine were sweet,
You could dance all night, win the fight, with whomever you meet?
You could say what you liked, you never cared, as you know no one dared, no mater what pain you caused, Your youth and beauty were beyond defeat.
The playboy have flown, The seed have been sown, now again after twenty years you are alone,
He left you for one so much younger, (Could have been your Daughter)
You again look in the mirror, and wonder,
What if?
And now that you are alone and all the beauty have left you,
The fame is gone, the children are gone the Wealth is gone.
…… al away!!
Would you have now said to the one in the old faded jeans,
Stay?