Poetry Please?

Why should it be that these days I cry so easily?
An old man’s tears run fast as new  wine at harvest.
Watching nervous sheep run on from me my eyes run too
Alone, watching the peaceful landscape my life has sheared
Fresh tears spring from my fading eyes and fall into my beard.
Why should it be that these days I cry so easily?
Why should it be these days I weep so often?
Thumbing through the photos in their biscuit-tin coffin
I stop and sigh and without warning suddenly I cry.
Dead stranger faces look back from their resting case
Familiars who’ve left my life laid in this unfamiliar place.
Within my memory banks they’re all carefully saved
Within my weeping heart their lost love engraved.
Why should it be these days I weep so often?
Why should it be there now are no more tears of joy?
There was so much crying-laughter when I was a boy.
Then so many urgent feelings came out of the blue
I’d be moved to cry not knowing what  else to say or do.
Unmanly tears were shed with my breaking voice
I’d had to stop my crying I had no other choice.
Sex shaves the innocent tears from the altered boy
Why should it be there now are no more tears of joy?
Older but wiser sagely they say is what a great age brings
I’m allowed to cry these days whoever sweet songs sing.
I’m allowed to forget these days and to cry in public view;
These days no one much notices what I say or do.
I look back through tears to relive my misty might-have-beens;
My dreams replay as vividly life’s puerile wilder scenes.
My dreams cry out to name all names my long life has misplaced
Alone abed old-hand’s may brush the cheek of love’s young face.
So, why shouldn’t it be that these days I cry so easily?
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