we do not look forward

"I'm not looking forward to getting old"
my husband says, his
hair grayed impossibly,
blue eyes already betraying
the youthful fire they once held

"It's better than the alternative"
I answer him, smiling, winking,
the wrinkles around my eyes deepening,
fulfilling the promise I once made to myself
when I was, oh yes, young:
to let them bear me to my crone age
without protest
like the swift feet
of the black birds
they are known by

we do not look forward
to getting old
(we just look backward
and wonder how it happened
so very fast)
we do not look forward
to it any more than
we could look forward
to being born