Another Step, Another Stage

Another Step, Another Stage

As long as there are those who love me,
and the sun still shines above me,
I won't worry about my age.
It's just another step, another stage.
Quite clearly, this is how it's supposed to be.

My knees can no longer be trusted.
My dreams? They need to be dusted.
My joints are achy.
My hands are shaky.
Like the Tin Man, I fear I have rusted.

Still, I have a stack of books to read,
and there's hot tea in my cup--what more do I need?
There's music to listen to and art to create,
so what do I care if the hour grows late?

I miss the days of feeling bold and sure.
My insignificance grows the more I mature.
I swear I am still young inside,
and I do try to take aging in stride,
but being a grownup has lost its allure.

As long as there are those who love me,
and the sun still shines above me,
I won't worry about my age.
It's just another step, another stage.
Quite clearly, this is how it's supposed to be.