42                                                             I'm the age my father was                                                             When I called him old.                                                             My stomach doesn't hang over my belt.                                                             My back is straight.                                                             The future's fortunately in front of me                                                             I was born lucky.                                                             Take care, something inside whispers                                                             Listen harder,                                                             You can still hang yourself.                                                             Time is silent. Invisible.                                                             It moves on crow's feet across your face.                                                             It doesn't stop.                                                             You do.                                                             SF 1977