I'm just too busy growing old
To count the blossoms on the vine;
The dawn still spills its cups of gold,
But fewer mornings now are mine.
The robin sings beyond the gate,
The maple trembles in the breeze;
I bless them still—but not to wait,
For time has learned to borrow ease.
Once I could spend an afternoon
To watch one cloud become the sea;
Now every sunset comes too soon,
As if the light remembers me.
The hands that reached for distant skies
Grow slower with each passing year;
Yet love has gathered in my eyes,
And made the farthest star seem near.
If I must leave the rose unpressed,
Or let the lilac bloom alone,
It is because the heart finds rest
In tending harvests it has sown.
I'm just too busy growing old
To quarrel with the wind or rain;
The truest stories are not told—
They're carried softly into silence again.
You used to smile a lot
When we were both young
Enough to play and run,
In the flowering fields.
Golden rays, golden hair
Golden cord, golden rings.
They are now all the same
In my memory.
The only thing not faded
Is the smile on your face.
We should have counted then
Those few blessings shared,
Lest we forget them
In the passing of years.
Our memories washed
Away as the rains
Came to clean
Away the dew
Covering us when we awoke
Laying in the grass of that meadow.
Faded Youth was originally published in Impspired Magazine, 2026 all rights reserved.
O map of skin where rivers deeply run,
Thou art the ledger of the years I've known;
The weary eyes that softened with the sun,
And silver crown that time has slowly sown.
I sing of joints that stiffen in the cold,
Of 'measured treads' along the dusty way,
For in this frame, though 'immeasurably old',
A 'steady flame' still burns against the gray.
Speak not of mere decay or entropy,
Quiet strength that rises through every storm,
A 'vibrant vessel' filled with artistry;
Resilience found in every 'weathered form.
Here's to feeling old, a bloom fading away,
Praising 'slowed hands' that hold each memory,
Yet leaves a tender trace of every day;
And a 'soul grown bolder' through its history.
For beauty lives beyond the face, we see,
In the 'unadulterated wisdom' of just being me.
for tea, or appreciating sunsets,
or finding garnets in the river
before I turn forty.
There isn’t time
for another funny poem
about marriage and parenting
a preteen,
analyzing
my aging eyes,
or my aging knees
before I turn
forty.
There isn’t time
for cinnamon incense
or spying goldfinches
on tall evergreen
branches
on the last days of March
alone
before
I
turn
forty.
The hum of the furnace
The buzz of silence
The smell of old
The feel of defiance.
The loneliness aches
The chair rocks
The TV stares
The night docks.
The time ticks
The memories fade
The wrinkles deepen
The age decays.
The sun rises
The sun sets
The day ends
The dark threats.
The eyes close
The heart stops
The family cries
The end drops.
May we be blessed to understand
in spite of what many of us are told:
That even though we can’t help growing older
it is not inevitable that we grow old.
I don’t recognize this container I’m in.
Where did it come from and when?
It happened overnight, I thought I had time.
I thought I had braced myself for this inevitable transition.
But when the obvious became real
I was still caught off guard
Not willing now to sanction this transmutation.
It’s frustrating being forced to accept these changes.
I never agreed, show me where and when I signed up for it!
My mind tricked me.
The way I think is childlike and silly.
But the other day I went to scratch my head, and what I saw on my arms,
Made me feel scammed and caused me dread!
The fish scale, wrinkles and hanging muscles.
These can’t be my arms they’re my grandmothers.
I looked closer at this organism
And was astonished to find so many areas falling behind.
Where are the protocols in place to prevent this?
Where are the protocolist, The manufacturers warranties,
And general implements and installments.
I paid in all my life
And this is the assurance my insurance gives me.
Damn, I wish I would have read the small print.
Passed the setting sun,
is the inevitable —
The unknown,
The necessity,
The silence,
after the last word spoken,
The way the room forgets
your laughter,
your pain —
Over time, the door closes
and the walls exhale your name,
Collecting dust,
to settle in your place.
The past keeps changing fast, the future dies
Unable to fulfil its obligations
The present loses threads of tangled ties
Days pass detached in life's perpetual vacation
Inside and out, you are neither led, nor free
But wait a minute, hasn't it always been like this?
I bet it’s just the way you used to be
Time helps you to forget what has been missed
You have become not very different from your shadow
The lawn you mowed looks greener than expected
Under the bridge the water runs a bit too shallow
As you grow old, by simple things you are affected.
You’re only as old as you feel some say.
How will it feel on your eightieth birthday?
Everything’s quieter and harder to see.
Not everyone, just seems like it to me.
Portions are smaller as we sit and dine.
When we do drink it’s but one glass of wine.
No longer can we just turn on a dime.
And it gets harder to walk a straight line.
Your sleep is disruptive if it’s like mine.
Going to the bathroom time after time.
Get off your soap box, step onto my cloud.
Life is still better than wearing a shroud.
If you’ve reached your seventies as of late,
Thank your Creator for life can be great.
No timecards to punch, no bosses to please,
Life is to live as each moment you cease.
It's not at all easy to come to term
with this 'new' old version of me.
I'm dealing with a sadly sagging anatomy
where what-used-to-be is now not-quite-so-firm.
I'm dumbstruck by the person in the mirror.
I have to have 'the' chat again and again
to scatter the chatter from my brain
and help me focus to see things clearer.
At least I'm thankful for what still works
and try to make the best of what I've got,
like that new dress that I just bought.
Still I turn rare compliments into rambling smirks.
So for my bouts of vanity I hope some day I'll be forgiven.
I won't complain about my little aches and pains
and rather hope to do some good with whatever life remains.
There's so much we can do to make the most of time we're given.
AP: 2nd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2026
We cannot fight old age – So, when I get there… I’ll just embrace it with a big dollop of humour!! Quote by poet.
My decrepit body makes me cry
Growing old ain’t fun, I cannot lie
My bladder leaks, it makes me sigh
Pelvic exercises I will have to try!
I’m not so agile, I am way too slow
When I need the loo I HAVE to go
Cos I can’t control my urine flow
Pass me a nappy, I won’t say no!!
I piddle when I cough or sneeze
I’m chesty, got an awful wheeze
My boobs have sagged well past my knees
Do I want a new body - ooh yes please!
To hear bird song really loud and clear
I need a hearing aid for my deaf ear
Going totally deaf I truly fear
I’ll get ears checked again this year
My aching limbs sure give me gyp
Got arthritis in my knees and hip
No cure for wrinkles around my lip
Anti aging creams dumped in the tip!
I repeat myself, that’s no falsehood
Instructions can be misunderstood
I repeat myself, that’s no falsehood
Oops my memory is not very good
Why is Old Age so Lonely? Why is it such a bore?
Why because you're getting Old no-one wants you anymore
As a Mother and a Wife you give your very best,
Perhaps it's just because they think you need a rest.
Once children ran riot in your home,
Now you'll be really lucky if they pick up the phone.
Yes we know they have their own Lives and they work everyday,
But we Gave up our lives just to help them on their way.
When we should be enjoying life we're left all alone,
With just our memories if only we had known.
We never thought that We would be so lonely in our lives
Some have lost their Husbands and Some have lost their Wives,
So All you children out there who have parents still alive,
Be greatful for the love and care that they gave you all their lives.
Remember that although you've left them All alone,
They still need love and hugs and it's great to see them come home.
Don't make them feel unwanted go see them once in a while,
Give them something to live for something to make them smile.
One day you'll realise how lonely life can be,
And when the day comes I know you'll think of me.
Love Mum ?? ??
Archaic silence reasons with my soul
Not the latest model, and not really a classic
Just a girl who trembles with expectation
When the sun regards my flowers with a smile,
Sending her delicate shafts of hope
Coloring each of my thoughts in beautiful blessings
While the rain seeks to nurture the petals
Who laugh beneath dew and glimmers of light
Breaking through the soundless breeze
Who carries my dreams, roaring into eternity
Old-fashioned, sometimes though – I feel my heartbeat
And mumble to the wind, a song who remembers
What it must be like to stir the old hearts, the souls
Who color my life in yesterday’s glory,
The stories without words, stories that remember
But are never heard, stories in poetic murmurs
Healing the heart and happening, so sure
Reflecting the eternal with each wave of assurance,
A destiny, wrapped in quilts of endless truths
Old age is the one solace from an emptied innocence.
It feels like I’ve been around too long.
Every tune has become the same old song.
Every plight’s just a fight to no end
cuz there’s no way to win.
And I can’t help but notice as I’m growing old -
I believe less and less of what I’m told.
Cuz the world’s nothing more than
an endless round of spin.
Every voyage I take that’s pushed by sails
is another lap around to no avail.
Cuz I keep on ending up in the place
where I began.
And everything I once thought was marvelous
anymore, well I’m just not so damned impressed.
Cuz where I used to wonder now sadly, I understand.
But I guess it all comes with the territory,
as does the feeling - don’t bother me.
Cuz I’m fine spending time on my own
through the years of gold.
I’ll just let the world go its merry way.
I’m at peace inside at the end of the day.
Cuz that’s just how it is, I suppose…
when you get old.
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