The Most Rewarding Race Poem by Bryan Taplits

When we are young we race,
I confess,
We stretch and speed our best,
We are deft and young-
and swiftness is our guide-
As we try and fly with youthful zest.
But it's so unfair
as one gets old
For life's race is always to the best,
For our lungs no longer billow-
but wheeze with yellow phlegm-
And when we race all we wish for
Is rest.
But if you wait long enough, you'll reap this boon-
Although you are no longer young and must tarry,
Yes, you'll win this last,
(even though all your opponents have passed)
As you race with aplomb
(although you no longer can run)
To your final finish line:
ie, towards the cemetery