When I Grow Old

I was asked to write a poem About when I’d grow old….. But really that’s the joke, For I already am, old and terribly cold. And looking back I realize How time has passed me by. It’s like a flower really, It forms buds, blooms, and dries, And then eventually each dies. I always joke to find some remedy, I’ve just got one foot in the grave. With apologies the famous comedy, Which gave me so much fun. But seriously now that I am old, And lost most of my family too, I can only ponder on the bloom That will soon wither and stew. Still, that’s not exactly true. For I truly believe that life Is but a passage over a bridge. From this life to a better one we strive. Hopefully…..