Too Much/Too Little Perspective (Poetry)

We all grow old — a fact of life
of course, I’ve always known it
there’s no escape, but even so
I dreamt I might postpone it

But birthdays come and birthdays go
unavoidable as weather
it really is a rotten show
that youth can’t last forever

It seems a year or two ago
(well, likely more than six)
when we were scarcely middle-aged
and still felt strong and fit

Where did it go? How did we slip
without a glance behind
into this almost senile state
that claims an absent mind?

I can’t remember what I should
and sooner would forget
the brighter way things were before
our sun began to set

And how I wish I’d listened to
that distant warning voice
but youth ignores what age will bring
and thinks it has a choice.