THE AGING CAGE

What’s in a year that I should fear

The turning of the page,

And truth I see within the mirror

That daily sees’ me age.

Where’s the place I find inside,

To accept the changing years,

And instead of run and hide,

To rejoice as each appears.

How do I dance on golden floors

And ignore the creaks I hear.

Where do I find those open doors

To the passing years I fear.

When ere I see tomorrow’s fate,

I see the coming of the grave,

Before my eyes, is seen too late,

The fear of age that kept me slave.

Let me see each turning page,

As indeed the golden age,

That I welcome without rage...

As I break this aging cage.