How can I be my age

when in my heart I’m forty

and not the man in the mirror

with wrinkled skin,

white hair growing thin,

eyes not as blue as I remember them.

How can this be? Why this alarm

to realize there’s two of me—

the man out there that people see

and inside, where it counts,

the man who looks at pretty women

and wants one on his arm,

still wants romance and more,

who knows his lust is far from dead,

who wants to walk up hills with her

and breath the summer air,

feel the breeze in his dark hair

and take her in the grass

and later in his bed.

I can’t believe I’ve turned so many pages

in this book I’m living,

the adventure getting better

and I’m the hero who gets bolder,

the guy in his jeans and sweater,

dressed the way I did when I was young

and unaware of getting older.

And though I know that fall is coming,

the green leaves turning red and brown.

I’m not a fool to think that I’m out running

Time; that soon those leaves will tumble down

to touch the earth and crumble into dust

and so will I,

but now when I look at the passing clouds,

the sky bluer then its ever been,

the air sweeter,

and I’m more passionate than ever,

happy to be here,

not on the edge of doom

no thoughts of not and never,

and so, my love, now that you are here,

grow young with me

let’s brighten up this room

with laughter,

let’s hear the robins sing as if it’s spring

let’s make love as if there’s no tomorrow,

who knows what’s coming after.

I only know that we are here today,

that’s all that’s certain

and no one knows what lurks behind the curtain

and so, not another word

about age, nothing is more absurd

than holding on to weary thoughts and worry.

Let’s hold each other close, let’s kiss and feel this bliss

and not hurry.