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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