Contemplating My Navel

Here I sit with glass in hand
To contemplate my navel,
And dream of all those earlier years
When I was fit and able.

Aging is a cruel cross
Which each of us must bear,
The early loss of youthful gloss,
The passing wear and tear.

But yet to me life has been kind
To this I must admit.
The family joys, my girls and boys,
I've loved each day of it.

And should there be another chance
Of life once more, well then,
I'll grab that chance, with both my hands
And live it all again.