Poem – Aging

I am grateful for my impetuous youth.
I am thankful that my soul shuns uncouth.

For some age, appears like rotting fruit.
While in nature, age can look like a deep tap root.

Butterflies are their most glorious.
When they shed their cocoon and embrace victorious.

We treasure beauty when it is in the young.
Yet, we put down the elderly with a slip of the tongue.

Young people live in a world of expectations.
Older people embrace solid foundations.

For some, aging becomes the extinction of dreams.
Lost to another time that was ripped at the seams.

Too often, those youthful fires.
Get pull under by the disappointment of our desires.

I want to be an old person that is cherished like a fine wine.
One that waited patiently in the cellar for one special moment in time.

I want to be savored at the most special place.
And allow others to see how my words offered up grace.

We cannot take youth with us, but we can take hope.
We cannot take objects in deaths slippery slope.

When we leave small parts of ourselves behind.
Perhaps in memories, words, and rhyme.

Then that spark of light inside does not really die.
When we can inspire another’s soul to finally fly.

~Suzanne Wagner~