Growing Old, poetry written by Judge Burdon at

Growing Old

Growing Old

written by: Judge Burdon


I’m sitting here thinking about my folks.
It feels like years since I’ve been home.
I’ve got a feeling like I’m homesick.
But it’s something more.
My thoughts are running wild
In this warm desert air.
Imagining that I’m there
I hear those old dogs barking
As I walk up the road.
It’s sad because I never seem to find the time,
To even write them a couple of lines.
It’s always phone calls home
For the Holidays
When I was young
They found time for me
They worked so hard to raise a family
Now all the kids have grown
And they’ve grown old
Nothing more to show except for growing old

Somehow it doesn’t seem right
My parents raised me
Then almost overnight
I heard the wind call my name
I was gone
It causes me to wonder what they get in return
For all the years of love and concern.
I guess the person I’ve become is their only reward.
Whenever I was down on my luck
My ole man he’d slip me a couple of bucks
And never made me feel like any less of a man
Now I’ve found it’s not money or gifts they give
I’ve been a taker all these years I’ve lived
I never realized the true worth of their lives
The gift they give
comes from their souls deep inside
That’s something you can’t buy

I’ve put so many miles between me and them
It’s gotten so easy to pretend
That there’s no debt owed
I’ve got a life of my own
But after all these years.
I hope it’s not too late
To let them know I’m proud of my name.
And a chance to thank them
For everything that they’ve done
Now I’m haunted by memories
Of the way things used to be.
I can hear them both
Calling me home
Please take me back to my younger days
I’ve been cheated by yesterday
I was never told
I’d have to watch them grow old.
I didn’t know
they’d get so old
When did they
grow so old?
Oh growing old.
I’m sitting here thinking about my folks

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