Cum Aetate Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

The older I get,
the shorter the lines become

The older I get,
more welcome is each morning's sun

The older I get,
those words rented are now mine to keep

The older I get,
dreams follow me out of my sleep

The older I get,
less rules to impose on the game

The older I get,
hopes and wishes of youth to reclaim

The older I get,
new laughter recalls what I missed

The older I get,
all goodbyes now embrace and dismiss

The older I get,
what I searched for, my searching became

The older I get
what's forgotten—remembered again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March,2015)