Beauty of Age

Beginning of each day I rise from my bed to enjoy the morning dawn to enjoy the birds chirping. In the golden sunlight they fly Fluffy white clouds float in the baby blue sky. As I sit here I feel the warm air. Dawn to dust I rock in my chair. Day to day I can see the gardens and flowers grow. The wind is blowing through the leaves. The leaves turn over like life itself has done. I think of when I was young as I rock. I watch children here on the block. I listen to them when they speak. My hair has turned all gray. Their parents say I am old. That is what the children are told. Young children they are the ones who care. They never pass me by they always find the time to say hi. I am old outside I am inside I am young as the morning dawn.