The Aging Process

As I age, it appears I know more
about less, and the lessons are often
guesses. I’ve been called wise.
Even dubbed a Master.

Although, the basically helpful
techniques of socializing still
phase me. Beautiful women
freeze my wit.
I know nothing of politics
except I don’t like them.
Sports, you can forget
about them, too!

Health elusively evades fixing:
One day you must eat well
and exercise.
The next, it doesn’t seem to matter.

I’m too old to play Frolf with that
cool-looking gang drinking forties;
yet young enough that too much
early-to-bed agitates.

Does this sound like complaining?
Just curious. Quizzical. Humorous, even,
the flux of it all.
This is what happened to my father,
wasn’t it? He didn’t give up,

but he did give in. To what the Japanese
refer to as wabi sabi.
Treat life like it matters little
and oh-so-much at the same time.

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