Age Comes To All

It comes to us all this thing called age insidiously creeping up over the decades surprisingly catching us unaware we all know it is coming, its just when? When do we realise our joints are stiff and that we have grown so tediously slow? looking back it seems like yesterday when I was in full bloom of sweet youth It is not the aches that I find hardest it is the infernal time it takes to complete the simplest task hours doing what was done in a hour or so Yes with age comes wisdom, sure, fine I prefer flexibility instead of seizure. Yet for us poets the greatest fear of all is what if we lose our minds? Our Soul? Would we know but be locked behind bars? able to understand all that is happening but be unable to articulate our thoughts? if so the doctor saying "est La Morte" Would for me be the greatest release how could I live in a world locked away unable to comprehend the written word that so inspires and stimulates my mind.