by Sawsan Elzayyat

Created on: April 22, 2009

Is it here already, the middle?
You can't know unless you know the end.
Is a new day round the bend?
You must know the number, to answer the riddle.

Middle age is any age, any time.
It differs so from clime to clime.
There are places, all spic and shine
Where middle age's always down the line.

Middle age is any age, any time.
It differs so from clime to clime.
Where all is bare and full of grime
Middle age comes in hardly any time.

Those who keep count are those who know
That they will have the time to grow.
And as they count the days and years,
They wail and cry their bitter tears,
Refusing all signs of happy times
That on their foreheads appear as lines.

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