Age Is Relative

They keep telling me I am not young;
Though my meter's childish, simple, dumb.

And despite my rhyming scheme being equally laughable
The impression is impressive. Ancient. It's incredibly baffable.

I'm not partial to the parts I keep performing onstage:
A young man's father. A guy creeping into old age.

Yet here am I, eyes wide, fingers still open and grasping
For something to cling to. Life is still leaving me gasping.

So! Yesterday I decided to relinquish a thousand hidden fears,
To shout and step out and shave off Bob Cratchit's beard.

For old age is ever relative: uncle, aunt, father, mum;
Such a distant relation, for today I am young.