Growing Old - the Loneliest Art

I don't fear growing old though each year brings both loss and fresh pain But if God's real or not, with my death, both will end, and I gain What I trust will be peace. But if death's all there is, can I miss The day's sun, the rain's smell, rainbow's grace, love's skin's touch, or a kiss? God grant heaven exists, and death dies! Who would mourn what gets lost That eternity promises soon to restore without cost? But I swear, on this plane growing old seems the loneliest art, Hard to share but through words, and can rhymes cast so late play a part? How do old share their path for most friends in this life are old too And to young lost in jobs and success, old folks live in a zoo! What's to envy at all, lives of seniors seem small in their cage. What to do, for though heart might still roam, past life feels like a page. Can real shelter be found, love or wisdom then shared? Do you care? Astronomical odds death is cold, and God never was there? But for me, thought of God, the Creator makes infinite sense Fills all loneliness up, makes the grave, if not Satan, past tense! Still, it's hard to ignore, as we age human sex redefined, And though cuddling is great, no one thinks theft of ******'s kind! Smell and taste slowly dim as our vices and pleasures all fade, Life-long friends drop like flies, for some dentures will make 'hit parade.' Though with friends by your side in man's will you are always alone, In Christ's death and God's Grace man is saved though his works can’t atone! Brian Johnston 17th of January 2019