Growing Older

When I get older,

nearing fifty – let’s stick to that number for this poem –

many of my friends – if I have the same ones then as I do now –

will be in their late thirties,

and I wonder

if I’ll slow down

and not be able to keep pace with younger legs,

and friends of my age,

if I were to extrapolate

how connections are now with people

spread across continents and time zones,

yes, those friends might be out of touch,

which is perhaps natural

because time, unlike gravity,

does not seem to flow at the same pace for everyone,

the clocks in all our faces

don’t stay in sync

and aging is relative.

Maybe when I’m fifty,

plus or minus one,

me and my partner

will have slowed down just enough

to still keep pace

with each other.

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