Oh, how very, very yes
Unless it is that I
Never felt young enough to do it
Or if I did
It has been so many years that
I have forgotten it
Or having known it
Which just shows that
I am
In fact
Too old for this kind of thing
That kind of thing
The other kind of thing
All the things, really

I know it’s the wrong answer
Age is just a number
You’re only as old as you feel
You’re barely however many years old
What do you know about being
Too old
And who decides what too old is anyway?
All that nonsense
You’ve heard it all, I’m sure

That much said
I will sit at my desk and write
Watching out the window as the world goes by
The young in years and yearnings
Doing what they do

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