You Tell Me I Am Getting Old

[170 words]

You tell me I am getting old;
I tell you that’s not so!
The “house” I live in is worn out,
And that, of course, I know.
It’s been in use a long, long while;
The color’s changing on the roof;
The windows are getting dim,
The walls a bit transparent
And looking rather thin.
The foundation’s not so steady
As once it used to be-
My “house” is getting shaky,
But my “house” isn’t ME!
My few short years can’t make me old,
I feel I’m in my youth.
Eternity lies just ahead, 
A life of joy and truth.
I’m going to live forever there;
Life will go on – it’s grand!
You tell me I am growing old?
You just don’t understand.
The dweller in my little “house”
Is young and bright and gay,
Just starting on a life
To last throughout eternal day.
You only see the outside,
Which is all that most folk see.
You tell me I am getting old?
You’ve mixed my house with ME!

Dora Johnson
Hickory Ridge, TN

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