Been thinking about my age
now that I’m seventy-five,
not so much about living longer,
more about truly being alive.
Never really thought about this age,
but now that it’s here,
it bears a little reflection,
thoughts of what I hold most dear.
Sunshine begetting flowers,
kindness creating humanity,
gratitude leading to happiness,
healthfulness without vanity.
Just sitting in my room,
comfortable in my thoughts,
thinking not of the nots,
focused on the oughts.
My brain doesn’t know what’s real
or imagined, or so it would seem,
I might as well trust in faith,
I might as well dream.
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