82 years old.
Old? But darling though your eyes are that of a grandfather who sits contently, humming a tune that the youth couldn't know,
Reciting stories of way back when,
Fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose to decipher the newspaper,
In the same eyes lives the four-year old child straining hopelessly in the dark to shield himself from the monsters that crave the veil of night
You are the 10 year old whose tear sodden cheeks weep from the wound of a paper cut, aching for his mom's kiss
You are the 15 year old who relishes in his own jokes, and laughs with such a laugh that the room is captivated by your sparkle
Now, at 82, you are young, but when you wander into your mom's room for her to shield you from the monsters, to receive her kiss, and to share a laugh no one is beside you.
Time has betrayed you.