Being Old
Posted: Thu Mar 07, 2024 10:11 am
Recently I had my first look at a Chatbot, Chat GPT. I’d heard a bit about the AI app and how smart it was so I asked it to write a poem about being old. It took maybe all of five seconds to print out the following. The only fault I could find was in the last verse where find and time are not really rhyming words.
Being old
In the twilight years of life, we roam,
through memories and moments known,
with wisdom etched on weathered face,
a journey filled with time's embrace.
Each wrinkle tells a tale of old,
of laughter shared and tears that rolled.
In days of youth, we danced and played.
In shadows cast, our marks displayed.
The years have passed, a gentle stream,
yet in our hearts, still dare to dream,
for age is not a burden's shroud,
but a canvas painted, bold and proud.
With grace, we move through life's terrain,
accepting changes, joys, and pain,
and though our steps may slow and bend,
a spirit's fire shall not descend.
In every season, lessons gleaned,
in autumn's gold, a life well-screened.
The spring of youth may bid adieu,
but summer's wisdom now shines through.
With laughter lines and silvered hair,
we're treasure troves of love and care,
and as the sunset casts its glow,
we find the strength to let things go.
For though we're old, we're still alive.
Our hearts, like stars, forever thrive.
In quiet moments, we reflect,
about the journey that we've trekked.
So raise a glass. Salute the days.
of lives expressed in myriad ways
for in the twilight years we find,
memories transcending time
Not mine ... Wazza
Being old
In the twilight years of life, we roam,
through memories and moments known,
with wisdom etched on weathered face,
a journey filled with time's embrace.
Each wrinkle tells a tale of old,
of laughter shared and tears that rolled.
In days of youth, we danced and played.
In shadows cast, our marks displayed.
The years have passed, a gentle stream,
yet in our hearts, still dare to dream,
for age is not a burden's shroud,
but a canvas painted, bold and proud.
With grace, we move through life's terrain,
accepting changes, joys, and pain,
and though our steps may slow and bend,
a spirit's fire shall not descend.
In every season, lessons gleaned,
in autumn's gold, a life well-screened.
The spring of youth may bid adieu,
but summer's wisdom now shines through.
With laughter lines and silvered hair,
we're treasure troves of love and care,
and as the sunset casts its glow,
we find the strength to let things go.
For though we're old, we're still alive.
Our hearts, like stars, forever thrive.
In quiet moments, we reflect,
about the journey that we've trekked.
So raise a glass. Salute the days.
of lives expressed in myriad ways
for in the twilight years we find,
memories transcending time
Not mine ... Wazza
