I'm getting old;
lest I forget, the mirror's always there,
reminder in grays
and new wrinkles to start the day,
hair since forgotten to behave.

Bold hearted youth,
scrapping in dark alleys
after bars closed,
left it's marks and scars
with sins to be atoned, too;

Broken heart remembered,
even as initials carved
into bark of thick skin
fade from being embarrassing
because that pain
never really healed inside.

And as close as old stars may arc
as they fly on by, they just go on by,
because clocks can't stop
and stardust moves much too fast
for an old man to grasp.