Beautiful Old Age
It ought to be lovely to be old to be full of the peace that comes of experience and wrinkled ripe fulfilment.
The wrinkled smile of completeness that follows a life lived undaunted and unsoured with accepted lies they would ripen like apples, and be scented like pippins in their old age.
Soothing, old people should be, like apples when one is tired of love. Fragrant like yellowing leaves, and dim with the soft stillness and satisfaction of autumn.
In this life, in this life, in this life,
In this, oh sweet life:
We’re (we’re coming in from the cold);
We’re coming in (coming in), coming in (coming in),
Coming in (coming in), coming in (coming in),
Coming in from the cold.
It’s you - it’s you - it’s you I’m talkin’ to -
Well, you (it’s you) - you (it’s you) - you I’m talking to now.
Why do you look so sad and forsaken?
When one door is closed, don’t you know other is open?