I am puzzled by a spring like winter,
Confused trees and flowers trying to bloom.
Life is not a stroller but a sprinter,
Just arrived now we have to leave the room.
My hair and skin have to remind me,
That we can’t achieve the prizes of youth.
Sex and success are now far behind me,
Diplomats may call me “long in the tooth.”
But looking back wastes our few precious days.
We must concentrate on finding small joys.
Nothing we can do about Nature’s ways.
Grandma has to stop looking at the boys.
I do accept that my best days have passed,
Does time have to keep flying so damned fast?