Older

Older

Perhaps I'm growing dimmer as I look on middle age

Like a song without a melody or a book without a page

Like a light bulb burning out inside that candle lighted room

Like a used car on a January morning dies too soon

No my body doesn't show it but you can see it in my face

The lines are growing longer at each checkpoint in this race

My paycheck has more digits but the winter wind is colder

And I may not be much wiser but I'm sure I'm getting older

By the pool there lies a goddess draped in oil and strings today