The Old is the New Young

When I was in my twenties,
Thirties, Forties and Fifties,
Sixty-three seemed quite old.
As a child many died there abouts
From my immediate family fold.
And now, all these years later
There remains a child in me
Who whispers then screams loudly,
"But, I'm only sixty-three!"

I don't know what feeling old feels like
But I don't believe I feel it.
I can still eat an apple out of my hand
And don't have the need to peel it.
I may look quite old to children,
But that's only what they see.
It's only my outer shell, you know -
It's not the inner kid in me.

I sometimes wonder if my elders
Who seemed quite aged back then,
Felt the same way I do now
As we sat around their den.
I never saw them run or jump
Even I don't do those things -
And yet I thought they were quite old.
I saw them through the eyes
That being young always brings.

Thinking otherwise seems attractive,
To still feel and believe I am young -
I hope to sing a lot of tunes
Before that dirge is rung,
For however many years
Have come and gone in my term
I must hold dear
That I'm still a good ways from
That final song being sung
And the closing twist and turn.
I will suggest,
With the wisdom only age can bring,
With the voice of a bell
With a well-seasoned ring
That my spirit has not yet
Become wilted or flung
And that at the end of the day
The old has become the new young!