There is a line that we all cross,
a numbered line called age.
Tis not the same for each who dwell
a simple turn of page.
For some tis just the number “T”
thirty, forty, fifty.
For others tis their health or wealth,
lack of both hits swiftly.
Muscles and bones talk back to you
when silent in the past.
You count the summers of your life,
how many more will last.
You add up all the money, toys,
to figure out your score.
You dwell on places never seen
and wonder if there’s more.
Some think about their age too much,
they worry years away,
while others beam of what they’ve done,
tomorrow’s one more day.
Michael Charles Messineo 2008