Old age comes to us all by stealth
And change is its only friend.
The body grows and then declines,
Strength waxes then wanes.

Defeat is the inevitable
Defenses tire and bleed.
Though we all hang on so desperately
After trying to spread our seed.

Life's personal and just for us
Or so we like to think.
It's going far too fast we say
Then it's over in a blink.

Some of us get quite lucky
Some get some extra days.
For some it's very short indeed
Barely a breath or phrase.

For others the rot comes fast
For some it comes on slow
And whatever happens in the end
Where we go we just don't know.

So we're waiting for that final call
Of the mystery to which we're born,
And whether we laugh or smile, or cry
We eventually all go home.