Never too Old

 

Will I ever be too old to dream. . . .

too old to wonder what could be,

what tomorrow will bring.

My body may ache 

I may move more slowly

but my heart is still growing 

although sometimes it misses a beat.

Despite cataracts, my eyes see clearly

To see those who need a touch, a whisper,

a laugh

I’m not too old to dance

mostly in a chair not taking a chance. . . 

But moving my body to the music

takes me back when these feet 

could dance all night long.

I’m not too old to sing

perhaps at a lower tone

but I’m still singing.

I’d rather sing a little off key, reaching for notes

than to just listen to music.

My body may have a few pounds but it can still

Move to the sounds.

My balance sometimes falters but 

I’d rather dance with a walker

or in a chair

than to never dance at all.

I’d rather dream and hope, rather than

be in  a  television trance:

seeing the world in black and white.

I’d rather touch and be touched, 

laughing with friends,

than to be cozy and comfy on my couch.  . .

alone.

I’m still dreaming

growing

seeing

dancing

singing