Category Archives: Age

Mark of time

We see others age and fade,
Never holding that mirror to
Ourselves. Their youth, even
Though they are younger now
As then, than are we, dwindles,
Lost in wrinkles. Our eyes see 
Only a twinkle of humor when
Looking upon ourselves. Our
Lines become us, theirs make
Them look old. We see others,
Never spying our face in the
Mirror of time passing, aging,
Fading, youth receding into a
Memory of our years gone by.

What do I know?

Italics on the do and on the know

Letter to myself, and,  
Clearly, others. This 
Letter may prove long.
A letter is long; it is not
«Note to self,« where 
The "my" is omitted,
Left out because self- 
Explanatory. Or just in
The interest of brevity.
Abbreviations often are,
Brief, that is, in the hope
Of being brief or briefer.
Letter to myself, to get
Back on track and no
Shortcuts, in the interests
Of brevity, of shortening
The inevitable advice, the
Words of wisdom gained
From the years the future
Inexplicably, relentlessly
Piled on, is time now to
Be my teacher, or yours.
Note to self, explore this
Further and farther as 
Time passes. Back to that
Letter to myself, have I
Learned nothing from so
Many years of living? Do
I, must I hesitate to share
Some grain of enlightened
Understanding, my hard 
Scrapped knowledge? Is
Knowing necessary? Or
Knowing better? Am I 
Here to share insights 
That you, too, may have
Made, even some in your
Younger years, your teens
Or thirties? What did I 
Know in my forties that
Wasn't obvious when I
Turned eighteen? Was I
Smarter at 50 than I had
Been then? Are you? Oh,
Remember, I write this to
Myself, not you, not you,
Necessarily, but do play
Along. I was a ridiculously
Serious child. Did that fuel
Frivolousity, okay, not a
Word, as I matured? Am
I so much wiser that I can
Leave hints, the bread 
Crumbs of a life best lived
On your doorstep? A letter
To myself from now to 
Then. From now to Zen?

Lear on the moor

Have you lost your way so far that
You secure the rapacious daughter,
Honor the unworthy son? Those you
Should- nay can- trust you cast aside,
Deeming the trustworthy in doubt.
Your day is filled with whipping winds
And swirls of an uncertain mind. Your
Night could find you comfort if you let
Love comfort and care for you. There
Is a child that would give you tender
Care in exchange for nothing but your
Need. You needn't show her a kindness
Not even a word of gratitude or praise.
She will help you find your way and let
You enjoy the restoration of your wits.

Wiser

What do you think gets better with age?

You are old said the child
Pointing to my wrinkles.
His mama said with great
Predictably, it's not polite
But he pointed out what I 
Could see and knew. Not a
Newsflash that time had a
Way of passing. It had been
Lots of years since I wasn't 
Wrinkled and more since I 
Was as young as he. He was
Wise, but so was I. Wise to
See and wise to point out
The truth. I was wise,  too.
You see, I knew I was old.

The habits of the old and wise

What are your daily habits?

Wiser than you were yesterday,
I'd say. All true, my habits will
Reflect my new-found skill at
Coping. True dat. The years play
On but still wisdom is hard-won.
Habits that were every day are
Harder, are easier. They are the
Same. Daily, I seek love, or fame, 
And acknowledgment. Is that 
Wise? Is there a prize for age?
Wisdom is just a stage in a life 
Full of frolic and strife. Habits
Should stay with you. A tacit 
Rule that defines what a habit
Must be - a practice, a custom,
Routine. Nothing to intervene,
Accustomed, and, then, some.

Janet

She once was beautiful. 
That structural beauty sits
Below and around her grey
Blue eyes as a reminder of 
A life lived with power and
Grace. She lives with people
Who don't like her very much.
She is dependent on their
Dislike and their care. The few
Moments when she can assert
Some of her will turn ugly for 
Her. She has so few skills at
Reaching out, few memories
Of a life where more was hers
And more expected. She keeps
Her hair, long and in a perfect
Bun. Except for that and those
Sharp beautiful eyes she is lost.

Time worn

Restless beauty is for the
Young. We are no longer
Restless nor are we young.
We are not strong of body but
Full of the history of our days.
Our composure is wherein
Lies our beauty and the
Strength we nurture as our
Own. Ours isn't the strength
Of youth. We need not flex
A muscle to brace our claim
At the beauty that we have
Earned. Ours is a resolute
And quiet beauty, a stillness.
We are not strong of body; we
Are full of the history of our
Days. Therein rests our beauty.
Not in our youth but in our age.

Loss

When he lost the wisdom of his age
I mourned that loss for it was mine
As well as his. I lost the little pieces
Of us as he lost little bits of himself.
He was never alone in all his losses.
I stayed by his side hoping love was
Enough to lessen his burden, knowing 
That losses do not relieve us. That's a
Contradiction to expectations, loss
Doesn't take away; it adds to burdens.
Nothing is lightened by our losses.
So as he loses more of who he is, I 
Mourn his loss as well as my own.
I mourn my loss of him as I watch 
Him count his losses, his awareness
Adding to the burdens of loss. So 
Much taken away, never my love,
This always remains, steadfastly by
His side although I know I cannot
Share his burden or lift it in order
To lessen his share of it. We each 
Share the loss but it isn't lessened
Or cut in half. We mourn in full our
Losses each to each, our burden
Mourned as mine, mourned as his.
When he lost the wisdom of his age
I mourned that loss for it was mine.
Am I old? Your question
Calling for reassurance
Or perhaps reevaluation.
All in due time, I say, for
This is a question of time.
A question posed in time
About time. I am old is my
Time-line. My time makes
Me old. It sets my age as I
Progress in time, one step
At a time, years passing in
Time. Time is aging me and
Yes, aging you as well. I am
Old, let me reassure you now
In time. You too are old as
I am. Time has passed since
Our youth, enough time to
Make us old. Old enough in
Time, my love, to be older 
Than we were yesterday and
Yes, let me reassure you, this
Time, you are old as I  am old