Young Skin

How many decades, caress my face,
How many ridges and lines fill my disgrace;
Older now, so much older now,
Heavy is the heart, heavy is the brow.

I wrote in my early years,
My work was happy people, and dreams still clear;
My songs and poems rang out for one and all,
My ego was alive, I never felt small.

Most of my friends and family are now dead,
I don't belong in the 21st-century, here, hanging my head;
Life 70 years ago was full of vibrant, brave men,
A beautiful time, when I wore my young skin.