Self Doubt

A poem about age and doubting yourself

Not that I am ungrateful for the life I have lived.
Nor am I knocking on death's door.
But sometimes I look at the generation behind me,
and I wonder if we are living in the same world.

I do have regrets,
but I am thankful too.
I know that my time is not yet done.
There are still things I want to do.

But I hesitate when trying something new.
Am I too old?
Will I look like a fool?
Should I be so bold?

Has the bloom left my flower?
Has the joy of youth passed me by?
Will I ever again feel the freedom of innocence?
Is this the sunset of my life?

I shouldn't doubt myself I know,
but these questions plague me.
The answers are simple.
There really is no mystery.

Age has nothing to do with numbers,
or the spring left in your bones.
But maybe it's all about the roads you've traveled,
and how well you've fed your soul.

Word count: 172
Line count: 24