"So I write poetry," so you say
In a voice both skeptical and distrustng
"Is it not foolishness at your age
to believe you could turn
those feelings of rage
at life's last and final stage
into something meaningful?"
I look back with new insight
clearly feel the joy, sadness and regret
of years rushing by to never return.
Once too busy for "just living"
no time for self-reflection
Now I have the time
I must use it well.
"Go at it" with the wisdom of old age
in the forgiving beauty in the language
I am a sage who sees past, present and future
as a whole to be respected--
an interlocking force in a single life.