Upcoming rite of passage

At 2:43 am on April 19 I'll exit my late forties and enter the early fifties. In recognition of being able to celebrate, I've written a poem.


FIFTY

When I was young my moustache was red,
I’d awake in the morning and leap out of bed.
Now I’m older my moustache is white,
And now every morning I mourn the dead night.

When I was younger I hustled and bustled,
My belly was flat and my arms were more muscled.
Now age has given me the grace to slow down,
And my well padded middle brings a brief frown.

No shine on my pate I’ve still got my hair,
For two or three floors I’ll still climb the stair.
I call them my friends, my small aches and pains,
As I gobble the pills my kit now contains.

I used to work hard to accomplish a task,
Rush into things, no questions to ask.
Now I think hard so the task is more easy,
I get the job done and my breath is not wheezy.

The new slower pace is not all that bad,
I’ve time now to contemplate the great friends I’ve had.
I pause now and then to think what’s occurred,
To smell a flower, or study a bird.

And I’ve learned some good things over the years,
Like shutting my mouth and opening my ears.
If it feels good do it and if it hurts stop,
Whatever goes up will eventually drop.

For all that has passed I have no complaints,
For I’ve enjoyed most of it and learned my constraints.
Fifty I’ve reached blow a horn bang the drum,
I look with great pleasure for what’s yet to come.