As I Grow Old with Grays

 
The times are changing
As I grow old with grays
I’m busy rearranging
Closer to my last days –

The years go by faster
As I move a little slow
Not yet out to pasture
But I hear the wind blow –

The words escape me
As I write the truth
For all that shaped me
Withered away in youth –

I count every wrinkle
Claiming each as mine
But also see a twinkle
In the life I still define –

Then I begin to smile
I still have time
It might be a while
It may be my prime –

Nothing is guaranteed
Nothing really stays
Except maybe the verse I leave
As I grow old with grays –

And maybe with some grace