None of us are getting any younger, but as you progress through your seventies you begin to reflect on just how many more years you actually may have left…
Maybe ten more summers, I hope there are more,
But nothing is certain, nothing is sure.
And at the end of those summers, when the lights fade,
Too late then to regret decisions not made.
Maybe ten more summers, so what should I do?
Stick with the old or try something new?
Another adventure, before I’m too old,
Create some new stories, which to friends can be told?
Maybe ten more summers, our lives are so short,
That time passes so quickly is not something we’re taught,
Feels like only yesterday those teenage years,
No old age thoughts then, no nagging fears.
Maybe ten more summers, choices need to be made,
But with age we lose confidence, become more afraid;
And what if that ten becomes twenty, or more?
If only I knew what life had in store.
Maybe ten more summers, is the time now or never
To stop being so wise, to dispense with the clever?
Is it time to be carefree, just live for the day,
Before my summers are all taken away?
