It happens before you know it,
time creeps up on you like that.
You find yourself different one day,
having gone through three dogs and a cat.

A strange face appears in your mirror,
one morning peeking above your cotton towel.
You stare back at that stranger for a moment,
your eyes blinking on that wrinkled scowl.

Then the paradigm shift hits you,
like a two by four to the side of your head.
How will you be remembered by the foot prints
made behind in the sand as you now tread.

Deranged minds might decide to kill the famous;
like a Kennedy, King or Lennon.
But I prefer to be remembered differently,
by the words like the ones you just read.