#193 (and #6)

I am old, I feel.
Ev'ry winter increases
The ache in my bones.

I am old, I know.
Unwittingly living in
A world gone away.

I am old, I see.
With dimming eyes I can glimpse
The decay of age.


I am young I dream;
Of halcyon springtime days,
Flowers soon to bloom.

I wake to old age
And adapt to it each day
Slowly as a snail.

I am old, it’s fine.
I may groan, even bemoan
Yet I relax; cloud. 

For

I am old.  I am.
Time only marches forward,
Flows as a river:
We can’t renew like seasons,
But wait to float out to sea.

And

When I am lucid
It has its advantages.
I hover over,
Journey through my memory,
Cast experience shadows.