Some days, it’s true, I ponder death before I grow weak, never having to stutter as I strain to speak or fight my protesting joints as they begin to creak, while witnessing my crumbling physique…
If only I could corner youth one more day- hold on to the high points, stop time in fresh May- when young life emerges long before decay. Why can’t this stay?
But seasons pass and so do the years, as smiles fade replaced by fresh tears. A new stage of life becomes all too clear: as this body fades so will my fears?
An athlete dying young never knows loss, an artist’s tragic end eludes cloudy gloss, a traveler’s quick exit gathers no moss.
Still, as each day comes to close, the colors of sunset are that of a rose and fragrant scents still fill up my nose. I’m tired and tried from highs and lows, still and silent as evening wind blows.
No need to rush any time in my life- hold on to success, hold strong in strife, accepting each moment as my blessed wife.
Those moments I realize there’s no time to waste, no flavors to discard without one small taste, no reason to run from what hasn’t been faced, no point in skipping any parts of this race.
My body may fail, my mind might rewind, my heart may tremor- but it’s always my time.