I'm addressed as sir by the cop on her beat,
Get the senior dscount when I go out to eat,
Receive "free offers" in every mail
To help me recover powers that fail.
I accept having the age that I' ve gotten,
Though prime-of-life is an age I'm not in,
There's just one thing I'm not used to yet--
The longer I live, the older I get.

The falling of flesh, I can't help but observe,
As I greet each day with slightly less verve.
Everyday pains I no longer report.
My physician's too busy. His time is too short
To help relieve all the chronic aching
Along the path my carcass is taking.
Even so, I'm not used to this yet--
The longer I live, the older I get.

Each year on my birthday, I discern
An increase in the candles that burn,
But as my discernment grows dim
And people say, "I worry about him.
He's growing feeble and seems a bit slow.
He's far from the man I used to know,"
I understand, but I can't accept yet
That the longer I live, the older I get.

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