Aging (Sonnet)

Of youth, I dare not say ado, yet wait upon the willing heart that I be spared that visit standing at the Pearly Gates, I bide my time, not hurried to go there. For on this Earth I tarry not to die, believing soul and body to unite, hence, the tongue in silence gives no cry, with my Lord I stand in glorious light. Grim Reaper, oh dreaded one, be not proud for many, not I alone, must now fight to keep our youth in the maddening crowd, and know that never we should fear the night. Alas, 'tis not from aging I dispair but from telling mirror I must beware.