Unseen Equipment

Even when aging,
Time blessed to live it.
With years to pass.
As if attached to speed of light.
Gives one aging,
This fact too fast...
To sit and grasp upon what was done,
With it did to accomplish.
Knowing every dream wished to achieve,
Will be impossible to obtain and receive.
As an aging comes as quick as it does.
Challenging this truth to accept and believe.
Until one much younger,
Still blooming on that youthful side of life.
Says out of curiosity and not disrespect...
"Is it painful to realize as old as you are.
That all the parts of your engine.
Aren't up to that thrust.
To give you a rush and a quick lift.
As you once remembered it? "
And instead of being offended.
A wink is given.
To not admit,
Aging has its benefits.
But remaining young and full of fun.
Has its way of diminishing some things done.

There is no way to escape,
Someone around...
Much younger wanting to know,
How it feels to grow old.
To remind one going through the process,
Of time to live it moving not as slow.
But still has a mind,
Hoping to convince...
An erosion of one's appearance,
Does not mean unseen equipment...
Packed and throttles under one's hood.
Has collected dust.
And known to become useless.
Because one pretends,
That ointment applied to feet, legs and thighs.
Is not an attempt to prevent,
Rusting bones that ache...
To be faked in public with heard sighs.
Is just a way to hide and disguise,
The affects of time.
And those who lie about what's obvious.
A growing older and doing their best,
To confess this process can be done gracefully.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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