All things must change to grow; to stagnate is to wither, die.

We're out of step
out of time,
out of love.
I need no excuses
for being ignored.
You're as old as you feel
and you're feeling ancient;
while I have the heart of a child
still basking in summer's shine.
We're two of heart,
breaking apart,
whether that's smart.
It's not up to me
and perhaps meant to be.
You're blaming me for things
that truly are not mine to bear;
you've become jealous of friends
while I'm seeking friends everywhere.
You are my senior, older;
I, too, am aging but bolder.
My inner child--on my shoulder--
keeps daring me to run, prance.
Darling, why won't you let me dance?
It would only be a moment or two
and is far from a romance.
We're out of step,
out of time,
and falling
out of love . . .
in changing times.