Old Age

Having known robins on the window sill
And loves over which to grieve,
What can you dream of now
In which you still believe?

Having known snow in winter
And the burst of blooms in spring,
What can you seek now
To make your heart still sing?

If there should be nothing new,
Might not the self-same wonders do?
And if there should be nothing old,
Might not new wonders still unfold?

Should nothing new or old appeal,
Still friends will ask,
“How do you feel?”