Growing Old

I have forgotten winter’s cold

Can I forget that I am old?

If I can pass through hail and ice

And freezing winds not nice

And temperatures far below

Then how far up can I go?


If fiercest winds and dismal skies

Are swift forgotten when sun shines,

Then surely my encroaching age

Like words upon a page

Can turn over a new leaf

And bring to my furrows swift relief.


Can old age be forgotten in a trice

With joyous laughter, all things nice

When by the grace of gentle spring

I see blue skies again and sing.


Caroline Baldock ©Spring 2011