Within the vanity of youth,
I scorned the ravages of age;
And loved the new things of my world,
And our place on the stage —
But now, the wheres I loved grow dim,
To fade out into history,
And young folks pass by in disgust
These useless things, grown old
Like me
I prefer the word antique. 🙂
I was born old.
Sigh. Me too.
We can be old friends, then.
I thought we already were?
Good point. 🙂
🙂