My spirit did not come alive
before the age of fifty-five
when gone was all illusion
no existence of a delusion
of there coming to me
that perfect stranger
for whom I would willingly
disregard all danger.
I forbid my heart to fill with sorrow
hoping this new face
makes a brighter tomorrow.

The truth in the glory of my days
like Dorothy has been with me always;
no longer do I seek some obscure truth,
my vanity has no matter of maintaining youth.
And looking back to each day long gone
lifts my spirit in melodious song.

Now when I look back I finally see
those people, real or celebrity;
many whom I have lost and loved
remind me what I am capable of—
and then a joy fills me which
I can in no way contain.
I am resigned my life
undoubtedly won’t remain.
I will return to dust, that is certain to be
but, I have grown old
in great company.