I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

Your skin is tight,
Your eyes are bright,
And yet
You loose your teeth at night.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

You don't walk
With a cane,
Wear a diaper,
Or leave a stain;
Usually you
Recall my name.
But then you have
Some nose hair
Like late September grain.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

You don't wear knee-highs
In Bermuda shorts,
Your moles are hairless,
You hide your warts,
Yet you don't play
Outside sports.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

Your hair's not blue,
Your ears are hairless;
There's things about you
That seem ageless.

I don't know how old you are,
But you don't look your age.

You swagger like an actor
On a curtain call;
It's hard to gauge
The age you wear
Since your overhaul.

I don't know the half of it,
But you don't look your age.