How old?

How old?
by cricketjeff on February 24, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
I didn’t really notice as the years went fizzing by,
Too busy raising kids to ride the wave.
I found that I was fifty and I hadn’t learnt to fly.
Just thirty years of working like a slave.

I put a pen to paper and I found that I could write,
That words could be a metaphor for life.
I found a group of friends who thought that I could shed some light
On silly little games and major strife.

And now I hear the music in the sunset and the dawn,
The silver songs the Moon sings to the stars.
I look for words that colour in the sketch my life has drawn,
The drumbeat that accompanies guitars.

Is fifty nearly old enough to see a different way
Or is it really young enough to get out there and play!