I’ll Be Fifty

Twenty years from now seems quite far

But not as far as it was before

Creeping slowly

People ask me

Where I think I’ll be.

Do I worry or should I worry?

That will lead me nowhere

I know for sure I’ll climb that stage

And I will welcome that age,

If given a chance.

As Jason Mraz said, I won’t worry my life away

By then, I’d be happy to have been fifty.

Count

Count the happines

Not the sadness

Count the heartbeats

Not the heartaches

Count the stars

Not your worries

Count your blessings

Always

The Number Called Age

Another year to be the wiser

The older you get, you should be a little nicer

Grouchy as ever, are you ever going to change?

You seem less happier each year, which is strange

Be happy for another year, be proud of your age

Don’t try to hide it now, the world is your stage

 

Be glad you are growing older, enjoy every minute

Don’t be sour, life is great so enjoy it!

Pushing Forty

pushing forty, like pushing a roller coaster

and I don’t understand

you’re alive, they call you old

you die, they say too young

 

all the effort to look younger

but the young longs to be older

 

pushing further or pulling back?

isn’t age just a number?

 

for now I am 15 years away

but I look forward to pushing forty

Wrong Number

I dialed the digits and heard a ring

The voice on the other side greeted politely

And so I started the conversation

Half-way through, I stopped to look at a text

but ignored it

 

The conversation was great

and enjoyable

It’s been a long time since I spoke with my friend

and it was certainly nice to hear her voice again

 

Before ending the call I said,

“So Jane, when will we meet? I sure miss you.”

There was a pause

and then the voice on the other line replied,

“Uhm, my name’s not Jane.

To tell you honestly, I have no idea who you are.

I think you dialed the wrong number.”

We Are All Numbered

When days are numbered what will become of me?

of you, of him and her?

when the salt of the earth has reached the fire

above and below the clever never-ending

and what they call endless finally ends

 

Lost for words to express what cannot be described

as it slowly creeps through the undaunted floorboards

the ones that creak and wither

when the light of day has dropped dead

to its knees; bowing with sadness and yet

maybe with relief

 

I cannot echo what is not heard or seen

when the silence has drowned the very foundation

of the ground we are standing on

As we approach that stage whether we know it or not

ready we must be to face the next stage

for we know not what happens after

when days are numbered