DO I WANT TO GROW OLD?
I saw a man today,
age-ed, tottering,
with sparse white hair.
He moved so slowly
as if wading through
knee deep water,
waves breaking against him,
causing his steps to falter.
The bag of groceries was too heavy;
opening the car door exhausted him.
He hauled the bag into the back
and gradually, so carefully,
slipped into the driver's seat,
where he rested.
He had to gather his strength
to be able to drive.
Do I want to grow old?
Maybe if I were in a place
where the old are revered and
treasured, it would be alright.
I wonder what it will be like,
this aging, these slow steps
toward the grave.
3/25/00