The Scent of Aging

As I near 55 I give you my readers a slightly poetic kinda morbid somewhat numb Gen X observation

Photo by Anastacia Dvi on Unsplash

I smell it:
My age.
Not all the time, but
When it wafts past me
I can only guess it’s that old-person smell that I’ve read about.

I’ve got a long way to go,
I know.
I don’t think old, but
My eyeballs still complain with blurry malcontent.
And I just can’t get myself to pull the readers from my purse.

The smell’s not bad —
Probably not even noticeable to
Someone who’s not in my skin, but
When I’m alone at my desk, I’m reminded:
There’s a tiny glass vase to the right of my monitor

That holds a cut flower
Given to me by my son.
And it’s five, maybe six days old.
It smells not so pretty anymore.
That’s how I feel most days now.