Maybe it gets a bit harder to rise
at dawn after a few pints late at night;
and those few pounds get harder to disguise,
making a climb up the stairs no delight.
Maybe your ears aren’t as sharp as they were,
yet some echoes you never can forget;
so many things fade away in a blur,
except her voice’s sound the day you met.
The new ways of youth seem so strange and wild;
and you think often of different times –
when the world was young and full of verve,
and could not fathom you with a grandchild.
Each passing year seems more and more sublime
as like our memories, we are preserved.
07 MAR 2003
for LJ user dougs
