Submitted by Fatima Ahmed
When I’m old
How shall I look, 50 years from now
With a wrinkled face, and my back bent down
With a stick in my hand, so I could properly stand
When my hair is all grey, when my youth has gone away
When my prime is my past, when my beauty wouldn’t last
I sure am scared when I think about this:
How will I look when I’m 66?
Poet's Corner 
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