Aging

Another poem I wrote a long time ago, tweaked recently, and shyly post here.

Over sweet days of youth you must soar to grow old
Drag memories across the bare floor to grow old

You must learn all the wisdom before you forget
And recite words of ancient Greek lore to grow old

You must look back at photos of sepia days
And cringe at silly things you once wore to grow old

You must dance with Dylan, one-handed, silhouetted by the sea
And explore your dark heart till it’s sore to grow old

You must welcome wrinkles and aches and slow groaning bones
And break promises on which you once swore to grow old.

You must fill your cup daily with rich heavy years
Only this way will you adore to grow old.