On Growing Old


Recently my father, the retired poet, turned 61. He wrote the following poem when he was 20, foreshadowing what it would be like to look back on his youth. Now I am where he once was, wondering what it’s like to grow old. I asked him the other day, how it felt. He said he’s loving the seniors discount at McDonald’s, and the old age pension is a plus. But all jokes aside, I love reading this poem and imagining him as he is in this photo; young, in love, and 50 pounds lighter.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by Roman Wojciechowski

how many will there be

how many summers will I see

how many times will you and I

share each others sunsets and sunrise and

walk upon the beach

talking each to each

arms extending out to reach

each other

And all that I know

is childhood was beautiful and beautiful and beautiful to me

I didn’t have to count the days

I’d be away from you

Our love grew like a birthday balloon

higher and higher and higher to the sky

and why and why do i stand today

looking up

trying to find a way

to chase a dream i had

and over and over and over my mind spins

like tumbling down a hill where you’ve been

feeling the touch of the wind

blowing through your hair

you’d never dare

to challenge or stare

at yesterday

Somethings go forever round and round

playing tricks on you

Remember when you were young,

and you didn’t know the meaning of tomorrow?


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