Eternal Youth Poem by Jack Winsley

When I was young, I thought I'd hate to reach the age of fifty-eight.
I looked at my old uncle Jack who wheezed and coughed and grew quite fat
And thought, I'll never be like him, I'll die at thirty-five quite slim.
But when I got to thirty-four I realised that I wanted more
At forty I still felt the same and thought my teenage plan inane.
When fifty dawned I'd clearly aged, but inside felt I hadn't changed.
And now as fifty-eight draws near there's one thing which is very clear.
There's part of me which age defies, no start, no end, it never dies.
When I exhale my final breath and close my eyes in quiet death
I think that part will fly away and find another place to stay.
Poor Jack's long gone and it's a shame, I never knew he felt the same.