If I Make It To Old Age
If I make it to old age, I’ll count myself lucky.
Not careful or clever, not courageous or plucky.
It’s all down to fortune at the end of the day.
Despite what the best advice is, or what doctors say.
There’s fitness freaks popping their clogs in their twenties,
While ancient old alkies live surrounded by empties.
Well alright, those folks are excepting the rule.
Life can be implausibly generous or cruel.
Don’t get me wrong now, I don’t want to pop,
But the day with my number on will be time to drop.
There’s nothing can stop it, when it’s time it is time,
Be you ancient and venerable or right in your prime.
If I make it to old age, it won’t mean I’m cunning,
Just that I’ve managed to stay in the running.
I’ll keep cracking on, just like anyone would,
I’m middle-aged now, so it’s so far, so good!
Dare your undesirable escape of emotion
Cease your glances of reverse direction
Our entities are of unison
Undeniable is the connection
Unfathomable, how strenuous it’s to imagine
Experience past and future, mirrored reflection
Accept my ubiquity within all your oxygen
Preordained configured via resurrection
When lost is luminosity
Flourishes your curiosity
Life proceeds at such velocity
Engulf you in insecurity
Feelings that couldn’t possibly
Have an immunity to eternity
Stunning is their multiplicity
Heard though worded inaudibly
Never shall you be forsaken
Nor left in your internal dungeon
Permit your defenses to soften
Grant this fruit chance to ripen
Memories of eons to awaken
Realize this is not mistaken
This genuine fortune
Has fate as the guardian
Lifetime of continuity
Overtakes us both implausibly
Consuming with such ferocity
Wishing for simplicity
Under neither’s authority
Though feelings of reciprocity
Serenade us acoustically
Yet expression isolated to poetry
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