“This morning’s run,
No fun,
Body heating up, frying,
My bones crying,
Feeling inside like I was dying.
Why?
I’m getting old and weary,
Well, coming up 55 so that’d be the theory,
But I won’t let it define me, age creeping,
No weeping.
You see, I am my soul, which doesn’t age,
It always allows you to turn a new page,
I’ll keep running,
Gunning for those finishing lines.
So I’ll slow down a bit,
That won’t stop me keeping fit,
I’ll have to keep running,
Or I’ll become a grumpy old git!
The body may age,
But the soul is forever young,
The spirit is an eternal flame,
A spark of G-d,
A lightening rod,
And that is what I am,
I’m not an ageing Koby
I won’t go quietly into old age,
I’ll have to be dragged kicking and screaming,
I’m smiling at the grim reaper – beaming.
You see, there’s life in the old dog yet,
Challenges still unmet,
Dreams, aims, goals, a bucket list,
You get the gist.
Don’t let your energy run down with the sands of time,
That would be a crime,
Age is just a number,
Tear up the script asunder.
Remember, you are your eternal soul,
Set yourself a new goal,
Keep re-defining your role.
So, I’m 54, in my heart I’m still a kid,
I’m still a young gun,
Wanting and able to have fun,
I feel alive,
I’ll thrive,
I’ll remain true to the spirit of youth,
That’s the truth,
And I’ll celebrate life, not mourn it winding down,
I’ll wear a smile, not a frown,
I’ll rejoice in the spirit of this poem,
Drink Champagne – make mine a Jeroboam!” – Koby
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