When I Am Old

A small conversation with age itself — seventy‑five years in my bones now, and Frankie turning ten beside me, both of us learning how to age with a bit of grace and a bit of mischief, reminding us that growing old is just another way of staying present.

When I Am Old


If,
I was young
back in nineteen-sixty-one –
no,
when I am young again,
without these strokes of pain
down the other side of my brain

I will remember
that day in November
when Mum said,
(with a cheeky grin),
“Never marry a redhead.”
Then Dad (who was a redhead)
smiled and wisely told me
“There’s always more fish in the sea,
but be careful what you wish for
beyond your front door.”

As I became a young man,
I asked for a redhead’s hand.
Alas, beyond the garden’s flowers,
life is both sweet and sour.

Thereupon, my dear parents
elected to be our loving warrants
and held our hands
above
life’s deepening quicksand.

A piece of music for the quieter hours — for the moments when age speaks softly and reminds us how to stay present.

Ivor Steven ©  July 2026