How can I be my age
when in my heart I’m forty
and not the man in the mirror
with wrinkled skin,
white hair growing thin,
eyes not as blue as I remember them.
How can this be? Why this alarm
to realize there’s two of me—
the man out there that people see
and inside, where it counts,
the man who looks at pretty women
and wants one on his arm,
still wants romance and more,
who knows his lust is far from dead,
who wants to walk up hills with her
and breath the summer air,
feel the breeze in his dark hair
and take her in the grass
and later in his bed.
I can’t believe I’ve turned so many pages
in this book I’m living,
the adventure getting better
and I’m the hero who gets bolder,
the guy in his jeans and sweater,
dressed the way I did when I was young
and unaware of getting older.
And though I know that fall is coming,
the green leaves turning red and brown.
I’m not a fool to think that I’m out running
Time; that soon those leaves will tumble down
to touch the earth and crumble into dust
and so will I,
but now when I look at the passing clouds,
the sky bluer then its ever been,
the air sweeter,
and I’m more passionate than ever,
happy to be here,
not on the edge of doom
no thoughts of not and never,
and so, my love, now that you are here,
grow young with me
let’s brighten up this room
let’s hear the robins sing as if it’s spring
let’s make love as if there’s no tomorrow,
who knows what’s coming after.
I only know that we are here today,
that’s all that’s certain
and no one knows what lurks behind the curtain
and so, not another word
about age, nothing is more absurd
than holding on to weary thoughts and worry.
Let’s hold each other close, let’s kiss and feel this bliss
and not hurry.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-poems/growing-younger.aspx">Growing Younger</a>