What I Thought to Myself on a Dark Interstate Between One Home and the Next - Robert Tippin

What I Thought to Myself on a Dark Interstate Between One Home and the Next

In fourteen years I will be old.
I do not know what the future will hold,
When I am old,
In fourteen years.

Come find me and tell me
What it was like to be young.
But I won't remember,
For I will be old.

I am horrified,
And bitterly cold;
For in fourteen years from today,
I will be old.