You are a poem; your stanzas are your life:
A prologue written in the long ago
(with some few emendations here and there)                   (ahem!)
A closure and an afterword await                

But now about this part of your life:

The iambs of your footfalls dance in time
While    
           anapests
                           leap in search
                                                   of a rhyme
Stiff-built trochees stumble clunkily (ouch)
And alexandrines mourn the sometime sorrows of age

And when writing your poem, remember…

Your poetry of life will be truly true
If you almost never write about
                                                          you