From his gait, I know who he is,
My nimble neighbour, walking so slow;
How could it have come to this?
Had his age suddenly started to show?
The kid next door is on his way,
His bike's now powered by an engine;
The fruit-seller's come midday,
Ripe and singed alike, his fruits, his skin.
Buzz! It's a new pic on Facebook,
The friend's toddler seems much taller;
Aunty, also in the frame, does look,
Somewhat greyed, and certainly smaller.
Dad's up from his pre-lunch nap,
Retired, he prefers to read or relax;
Oh, yes! It was during this gap,
That he'd said he'd, as ever, do my tax.
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