I’m getting old,

I suppose it’s true.

I lean against the wall

to aim for a pant’s leg.

My shoes are all step in,

haven’t patience for laces.

We think about where we are,

living these hours in our lives.

Think about what we did,

are we leaving anything behind?

Did we wake up one day

and decide a legacy is important?

I put myself to sleep at night,

and arise with man’s best friend.

I sometimes can’t fall asleep at all,

so preoccupied with what I have, not.

Well what I haven’t done at all,

and no longer measuring time.