I have decided I will not grow old
And watch the world through rheumy eyes
Too stiff to bend and smell a rose
To walk beyond the garden gate.
I will not grow old and sluggish
Too slow to catch the seasons’ turn
The rain before it soaks away,
The wind as it blows from tree to tree.
I will follow each sunbeam that falls
Broken into bright splinters by the leafy canopy
With eyes still keen and hands still quick
To capture the fleeting golden moment.
The year like all the years grows old
The leaf turns from green to gold
Chicks rummage for snails alone
Children no longer open eyes wide in wonder
But keep them hooded in dull adult indifference.
I will not grow old because there is too much to do.
The sands slip between my fingers though I close them tight
I see the sun…
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