GROWING OLD

As years have passed slowly and now quickly as they usually do, I have noticed the changes that this life of mine has taken on me, like on my heart for the love that I lost and found and the passing of family and friends.

Time keeps moving even though it is just an illusion. Just look at the confusion it laid on my aging face and the changes it has made upon my wandering places.

Should I remain silent or speak the truth about this harsh reality? I lay here mending my broken parts and plucking my first gray pubic hair.

I take my daily walks through the valleys of my mind. Questioning every thought and every feeling that I had, did I choose or search  for the best answer for my or other's happiness, or is it supposed to be self-achieved

Not depending on anyone but the person staring back in the mirror until you get old and want someone there to tell your story as you sit in your rocking chairs.

Looking at old photos from when I was young, believing in dreams and what once were fears of this new reality of how things could have been but were not meant to be, I look at the photos and back in the mirror again and realize I'm growing old I am not old look into my eyes. You will see that the child is still me.