On Reaching The Age Of Fourty One Poem by Thomas Golding

Four tens of years plus one
Doh Ray to Me and go
Oblivious to all but inner tune
Through minefields on the way
Will happiness be mine the call
You moved with song eternal women’s way
Whatever pain always knowing
Go ever where the dance would lead
Two score plus one means looking back
Smiles for here that younger self
Not so there or there
Where life transposed
The years are kind the mirror says
No fears to those who hold their song
Those special few who age
Never growing old.