Seventy-nine - My God! - is almost eighty!
Eventually, I guess, one does get old.
Vistas of the past engage the mind,
Elegies for what lies far behind,
Now interspliced with scenes just barely cold,
The long ago concurrent with the lately,
Years and decades onto one screen scrolled.
Now one's state of being is more stately,
In movement and in contour more confined.
Nor could one differ, were one so inclined,
Embracing life's decrees as life unfolds.