It’s All about the 5

Being five, so young and alive,

and fifteen so it seems,

is a stepping stone

to one day being alone,

but at twenty-five,

you have to quit playing,

no more shuck and jive,

for the years are moving fast;

you just haven’t noticed yet.

Here it comes, thirty-five.

Do you have a family?

Or in prison for a crime?

Don’t let life fool you,

when forty-five slaps you in the face,

it’s your wake-up call

to get back into the human race.

Can you believe it?

Fifty-five.

Now you have something in common

with the interstates.

Your age is equal to speed.

Can you yet see the need?

You still have time;

find your niche in life.

Do you still have a husband or wife?

Sixty-five, the golden years begin,

you’ve gone from tall and strong,

to bent over and thin.

Look back on your life,

are you happy, content?

No? Too bad.

It’s far too late to vent.

Seventy-five,

what have you to show?

Not much you think,

as you take another drink.

Spouse and kids gone by the wayside,

living in shadows, the best way to hide.

Here you are at eighty-five,

simply amazed you are still alive.

You can’t see as well as days gone by,

your movements jerky and slow,

and deep down you feel,

there isn’t much time left to go.

But look at you,

slobbering spittle at good old ninety-five,

listening to a far-away fiddle,

and suddenly before the lights go away,

close your eyes for the very last time,

you remember what it was like to be young,

carefree and alive;

way back when,

when you were only five.