Gracefulness Of Age Poem by Steve A. Politte

Gazing at a multicolored sunset,
fading slowly into the west -
I am mesmerized by thoughts
lingering in my mind,
Not so sure where they will take me,
as in a trance they go -
Back and forth through
the many pages and seasons of time.

The cold north wind echoes
the sounds of winter still -
As darkness begins to fade
in like a shadow of surprise,
Ever so close, at least enough
to touch, but not to bend -
Or to race after that now,
long gone, and short lived sunrise.

The years have not just passed by
but zoomed by like from a gun -
Can't get them back to relive,
but alas those memories remain in tack,
Perhaps a bit worn around the edges,
but through these eyes, so be it -
The memory is fading anyway,
and what lies ahead is right on the track.

There is a gracefulness in age,
that renders soft and comfortably warm -
Such radiance from God is a treasure
that takes time to realize,
That I have held fast to what was
meaningful and stored it securely -
Where it will rest or at least
take on cobwebs until the very day I die.

I never met a challenge
that I didn't fail but more than once -
Perhaps I knew better than
to allow such a blunder a second chance,
Often times I was subdued
in my thinking, but not a complete fool -
For when the storms of life approached,
oh I learned... yes, I learned to dance.

Life without laughter is like
a clown without a painted face, I surmise -
So we should take the time to be goofy,
drink koolade, and chew gum,
But if you prematurely lost your choppers,
well you might can't do either -
Being completely serious all of the time
is a drag, and certainly not much fun.

This journey of life has a lot
of twists and turns; bumps and curves as well -
And a whole lot of folks are traveling
the same road, trying to go some place,
Perhaps looking out for themselves,
and not a worry or care for another -
Yet, truth be told, that way will only
get one lost, so much for the race.

The golden years have come upon me,
memory a bit rusty but not all -
For I know which direction I am
to be headed in, it is written on each page,
Yesterday isn't coming back,
and tomorrow may never come to be -
So, in the footsteps of Jesus
I continue, until heaven's angels carry me home,
And I have finished living
the final season; the gracefulness of age!


Steve Politte
© February 25,2012