Age.

Age.

Teeth in the glass, on the nightstand,
beside my old worn bed.
An old, faded, stained pillow,
on which to lay my head.

I might be old, and feeble,
but, morning comes and makes it all worth while,
my old eyes see beauty out the window,
and makes this old heart smile.

I see the beautiful sunrise,
that morning tends to bring,
and the music begins my wonderous day,
when the birds begin to sing.

Age is in this old body,
not in the mind and heart,
I will think young forever,
until God comes and makes me depart