When I am old,
I will bark at the stars in heaven.
I will buy a new car
with sleek lines.
I will race between the cinder blocks
lining the street in front of my house.
When I am old,
I will no longer be the grasping youth,
who held her with a passion,
who kissed soft lips,
and rounded hips,
and never knew,
what he had.
When I am old,
I will rise from the chair carefully,
so as not to break a bone,
nor strain a muscle,
that once was strong and firm.
When I am old,
I will ride electric scooters,
and think about the days I lost,
worrying about things
that never came to pass.
I will look at the calendar,
and mourn the time I wasted,
wanting to change the past.
When I am old,
I will spend more time
putting on my socks,
and taking my medications,
and crying over lost love.
I will wonder how many more days I have,
until I won’t be old anymore.
When I am old,
I will write poems
about my aging mind and body.
I will write poems
about love and loss.
I will remember when I had
living memories,
instead of dying thoughts.
When I am old,
I will no longer be young.
I will mourn the fact
that I will never
be young again.
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