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.
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