"Count your life by smiles, not tears,
count your age by friends, not years,
and remember ...
we do not quit playing because we grow old ...
we grow old because we quit playing"


Please don’t call me “old.”

As one who has outlived her usefulness,

Or one who has no goals for the future—

Even if I seem to be from a different

Time and realm.

I’m not an old shoe

Ready to be discarded!

Call me “seasoned”

Like the finest of French wines,

And the sharpest of exotic cheeses,

Or the most fragrant of oaken logs

Ready to energize the crackling, scented fire,

Yearning to warm one’s most inner being.

Or, call me “experienced.”

Like one who has seen

And weathered life’s challenges,

Someone who knows the ropes,

And how to play (or not play) the game

One who has enjoyed blissful years

Of Nature’s indescribable beauty,

Of a joyous, loving family ,

Along with tears of exhilaration

For the hopes of tomorrow.

Or, finally,

Call me ”Wise”

Like the colloquial owl,

Or the Buddhist sage,

Or the scientist who has learned

The very REASON for life.

Count me as one who has learned

The “how's”, “why's” and ”whatever's”

Of the common needs of humanity.


Call me “seasoned’,

“Experienced” or “wise” ..

But please,

Don’t call me ... “old”!


Submitted by:

     Diane Sulyma Davignon