I feel the calendar lies
Though I know
Its purpose
To record accurate time
Days and months
Footnoting special events
But it tells me
I am 72
Officially old
How I fight every day
Its certainty
That I should start
The process of crumble
Lending myself
More to the rocking chair
I will not demur
Taking the easy path
Conceding to frailty
And though
I know
I cannot win
The war is on
