Turning 62

November’s the cruelest month for some.

A time for reflecting on past mistakes.

A time for choosing best whatever comes.

A time for regretting squandering ways.

Why do we age in the way that we do?

Time stalking us, tick tocking down our days

To a point where we’re agonized against

some tide, gulping breaths, drowned in solitude.

If only we’d circumvent this some way,

Fear less on this journey and strike some mood

Of optimism, a voyage we knew

We should sail joyfully every day.

Time judges the value of our lives spent

Mourning days lost or embracing events.