Facts mean fiction

One too many birthdays, and her jaw drops
her face falls away
like she's going to catch age.

Don't you know?

It's something we all already got
The trip may be getting better
but that car is breaking down regardless.
And you cannot stop.
Rolling down that hill.

You'll see. The mirror will not lie
about lines, and the dull root of memories
embers ebb in the flow of time, are washed and replaced by pictures
memories are ink on paper,
the history books depict, and what
they call passages
are in fact portents
you will find, you will see.

As you get older,
Like now,
There is a certain pleasure
it the outside being wet and
the inside dry
Forgetting the shrill of the gulls,
slowly numbing skin
the cry of the wild sea beckoning to you
but the soft glow of the hearth calling you in.

Or to cut to the chase

I'm getting older and I'm taking you all with me.