The old house is still standing
Its days of usefulness are o'er
And though it hasn't fallen
It is more decrepit than it was the year before.
Missing panes and tattered shingles
The building is beginning to crumble
Time-battered and weather worn
I, too, am beginning to stumble.
From time to time I stop to visit
To assess the prospects for tomorrow
Some day she'll fall but I may not see it
Like her, I've little time yet to borrow.
Will the house go first, or will I?
You may not play our little game
We'll soon revert to dust
The old Guy and the old Dame.
© 2014 David W. Lacy