One must have a mind of winter
to grow old. I refuse. My mind is
of sunshine and laughter, fantasy
and fate. I reach for the unknown
though my body aches. My soul
flies with my dreams, still to be
realized. I listen not to those that
say, why, aren’t you too old.
I reach for the unknown
though my hair is turning grey.
it matters not what others may have to
say. I watch as the young turn old before
their time. They’ve given up their dreams
and want that I should give up mine.
I reach for the unknown though
tire more easily each day. I wish for more
hours to play. I want to see the dreams
fly to the world. To bring back more than
what I can hold. I reach holding on to the
unknown before they kill my joy and I cease to be.