My Moment of Truth

Today I awoke to my moment of truth, I'm no longer as young as I was in my youth, And perceived, later on, to my further dismay, I'm not even as young as I was yesterday. Oh, how and why was my youth so misspent, And how can I find when and whither it went? Was it hung in a closet, or tossed in a drawer, Is Peter Pan really gone, boon companion no more? As I woke up this morning, he was with me, I swear. When I looked in the glass, though, a stranger was there. Oh, I'll ransack each closet, every cupboard, and drawer, But I fear I'll not find that sweet boy anywhere. Now a new thought emerges, one not nearly so bleak: I'm not yet as old as I will be next week. So, Peter, adieu, sayonara, and ciao, Please keep my youth with you, I'm too old for it now. Oh, dear, golden boy, oh, bright symbol of youth, We cannot remain young, that's the bittersweet truth. Yet silver-fringed laughter hide-and-seeks in the hall, And I smile for my youth hasn't vanished at all. My mem'ries are young, I invoke them at will, Like the spirit of Pan that remains with me still.