I Love Poetry

Age is but a number they say
As I crawl out of bed , at the break of the day ,
Creak,
Creak,
Creak ,
Is that the joints?
Don't want to speak,
Grating teeth to a point.
Squinting eyes, feeling around,
Face all crumpled,
Fear of hitting the ground.
Catch myself in the mirror
As I pass through the room,
A tongue is pulled out at me
Out of the gloom.
I chuckle and smile
This is just what I need,
My spirit is lifted,
As I pick up my speed.
I make it to where I needed to go ,
Just in time may I say
As I go with the flow .