I am near the gate; the gate to old age.
I couldn't get up in the morning
if I thought I really was there,
but I know that I'm getting closer.
Like looking at high school girls walking down the street
when you are only in third grade,
I look at the elderly people
where I am working.
They are in the dining room;
walking down the sidewalk;
in the garden.
Behind their doors;
with televisions talking
I am having another birthday soon.
I am helping Libby~
who is 87.
Every day we find something to do.
Every afternoon she suffers anxiety.
She impresses me.
And then I wonder:
How can I ever be that old?
And I probably won't be
but going through the gate
happens to everyone.