Dust Collector Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Not as close to center.
And away from the spotlight,
On life's stage.
This becomes evident and noticed,
By the one who becomes of age.
And having it one's way...
Is given.
Without swaying any one's opinion.

'Hey why not?
They are not going to be around here,
That long! '

~They who?
I'm aging too and so are you!
IF you're 'lucky'.~

A withering in appearance,
Is experienced as this 'blessing' occurs.
And the one who goes through the process adapts.
Since encouraging words seem to overflow as heard!
Coming from those still in their youth.

'You seem to be lost!
Do you need help crossing the street? '

~I need no help.
I happen to be thinking of a new recipe,
Thank you! ~

Reminding those who are aging...
How brave it is to have that much nerve,
To allow it to show and be done.
Leaving those in their youth,
Stunned by someone over the age of '31'...
Loving the act of aging!

'Mister, I heard you.
And you are well over '31'.
You are old enough to be my grandfather.'

~And I am willing to bet,
Your 'grandfather' never suggested...
Kids like yourself,
Need to learn how to mind your own business.
I could care less about you being in the spotlight.
I can shine just as bright and with more lustre without it.~

'Listen up...dust collector!
I don't have to pay you any attention at all,
Old man!
Wrap that around those aching bones and wrinkles.'