Age practically dripped from his eyes
Narrow crevices in his cheeks channeled it to his down turned lips
Catching on the stubble of his six day old white beard
It collected there until large drops of it plopped to the ground below
Eyeing those around him, he wondered if they realized how quickly time moved
Nothing had prepared him for that rapid transition
Too bad he couldn’t tell time to get off his lawn, else he might be fertilizing it
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Never Short On Words 