Cum Aetate

The older I get,

  the shorter the lines become

 

The older I get,

  more welcome is each morning’s sun

 

The older I get,

  those words rented are now mine to keep

 

The older I get,

  dreams follow me out of my sleep

 

The older I get,

  less rules to impose on the game

 

The older I get,

  hopes and wishes of youth to reclaim

 

The older I get,

  new laughter recalls what I missed

 

The older I get,

  all goodbyes now embrace and dismiss

 

The older I get,

  what I searched for, my searching became

 

The older I get

   what’s forgotten—remembered again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

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