Obsolescence by Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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As one, we matured

hoary hairs, crowns of glory;

crestfallen lament,

longevity apparent

a story told by each strand.

We were like champagne

or a perfect wine;

flat or past its prime,

we, discards like an old shoe,

fashion of no value.

Dimmed by cataracts –

vibrant, compassionate world;

mobility waning –

arthritis, refrain of the

getting older blues.

Senior females

human and canine

much in common;

pushed aside

unseen and unheard.

Ken unparalleled.

Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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