No one likes to do it.
Some will fight in bitter rage.
Most deny its' onset.
But none escape the wrath of age.
A pathway that leads forward;
No backward trails to trek.
He moves in one direction,
Demanding our respect.
No dawdling, no lingering
Or laughing in his face.
No stopping by the wayside.
He demands a steady pace.
He brings on many changes
In us as well as others.
He makes our souls seek common goals.
In time, he makes us brothers.
And if we take it gracefully,
Embrace him to the end,
We can make him our companion.
He can become our friend.
No one likes to do it.
But all must acquiesce.
The creature, age,
The teacher, age,
We all must pass his test.
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