I found this poem online.. man, it says it all! lol
Turning Thirty -
I dreamed of being sweet sixteen,
Then magic twenty-one,
But suddenly I'm twenty-nine
And seeing thirty come.
My babysitter calls me "ma'am"!
It makes me feel quite numb,
How can I think of me as old?
I've always been so YOUNG!
Once I could name the "top ten" songs
Played on the radio,
And now I turn the rock groups down
Or hunt for something slow.
Now there are lines around my eyes
I thought would never show,
And pounds that used to be above
My waist have sunk below.
The boy I worshipped in college
Now lies beside me snoring.
His middle's thicker--so is mine,
And he's not so adoring.
He used to worship at my feet;
Now mostly he's ignoring.
I once clung to his every word;
Now sometimes he is boring.
I was depressed to see how fast
My youthful days could flee,
And then I met a fine old man.
His age was eighty-three.
His hair was white, his walk was slow,
And he could barely see.
He called me "child" and said he wished
He was as young as me.
I dreamed of being sweet sixteen,
Then magic twenty-one,
But suddenly I'm twenty-nine
And seeing thirty come.
My babysitter calls me "ma'am"!
It makes me feel quite numb,
How can I think of me as old?
I've always been so YOUNG!
Once I could name the "top ten" songs
Played on the radio,
And now I turn the rock groups down
Or hunt for something slow.
Now there are lines around my eyes
I thought would never show,
And pounds that used to be above
My waist have sunk below.
The boy I worshipped in college
Now lies beside me snoring.
His middle's thicker--so is mine,
And he's not so adoring.
He used to worship at my feet;
Now mostly he's ignoring.
I once clung to his every word;
Now sometimes he is boring.
I was depressed to see how fast
My youthful days could flee,
And then I met a fine old man.
His age was eighty-three.
His hair was white, his walk was slow,
And he could barely see.
He called me "child" and said he wished
He was as young as me.
