Designated Driver
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Old age often feels like a waiting game,
watching life's end stealthily approaching.
For your passion for life has dimmed its flame,
and the shadow of Death is encroaching.
You start looking back rather than ahead,
memories outweigh thoughts of tomorrow.
And the years, like an unraveling thread,
reveal happiness, anger, and sorrow.
Oddly enough, you don't feel old inside,
though time's undoubtedly ticking away.
And unruly youths are hard to abide;
tending to ignore what wizened tongues say.
Crashes devastate the lone survivor
when hope is the designated driver.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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