The Old Gray Mare She Aint What She Use To Be
I am so blessed, I am living long enough my hair is turning gray, and my youthful laughs are forever etched into deep grooves on my face. There are many who have never laughed, and so many who have died before their hair could turn gray. I’ve had friends leave this world too soon never knowing the freedom that comes with aging. As I get older, it is easier to be positive; I could care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong. I don’t mind growing old, it has set me free and I like the person I have become; no lamenting would have and should have, no worries of what will be. I know I will not live forever so if I feel like it I will eat dessert, I’m less critical of myself, kinder to myself. I don’t chide myself for not making my bed or acting silly. I know I am getting forgetful, but some of life is just as well forgotten; eventually I remember the important things. I have had my heart broken; a broken heart gives me strength, compassion, and understanding, I know the joy of being imperfect.