You won't hear me knocking
But I'm always right by the door.
I will elude your sight
Behind your back; beneath your jaw.
Though for all of my mystique
And strange habits one can be sure
That even if I take a while,
Blessed with cunning wit and guile,
I will triumph and own the last straw.
For as much as you resist,
Pretend to not care and ignore,
The simple fact remains true -
I control this enduring score
So embrace me; use me,
Don't discard me; fear me no more.
I won't relent at any stage
Because I am what they all call Age -
The judge; the jury; the divine law.
Jack Growden
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/age-60/
