An Octogenarian Jogger

What hair he has left on his head it is gray But for one of eighty four he is looking okay And to the father of time respect he doesn't pay He jogs for an hour in the park every day. He jogs in all weather rain, wind, hail or snow And as one would expect his fastest pace is slow The aged great grandfather six decades past his prime But he will not surrender to the father of time. An aged war veteran 'tis true what they say Old soldiers don't die they merely fade away Perhaps he doesn't feel that his best days are gone 'Til the reaper claims him he will keep jogging on. Though young boys laugh at him and dogs at him bark It is his addiction to jog in the park For one of his age he is full of elan In his mind he doesn't feel he's an old man. The strain of hard exercise shows on his thin wrinkled face And he trains as a young man would train for a race He runs for an hour or more at his fastest pace And love of his addiction he seems to embrace.