I dreamed of being sweet sixteen
Then magic twenty-one
But suddenly I'm twenty-nine
And seeing thirty come.
My baby sitter calls me "ma'am"
It makes me feel quite numb
How can I think of me as old?
I've always been so young
Once I could name the "top ten" songs
Played on the radio,
And now I turn the rock groups down
Or hunt for something slow.
Now there are lines around my eyes
I thought would never show.
And pounds that used to be above
my waist have sunk below.
The boy I worshipped as a teen
Now lies beside me snoring.
His middle's thicker -- so is mine,
And he is not so adoring.
He used to worship at my feet;
now mostly he's ignoring.
I once clung to his every word,
Now sometimes he is boring
I was depressed to see how fast
My youthful days could flee,
and then I met a fine old man
His age was eighty-three.
His hair was white, his walk was slow,
And he could barely see.
He called me "child" and said he wished
He was as young as me.
Sharon Yates Lyerly