The Slow Thief

He's chasing me where I can't see
His gray hands reaching out
To slow me down and cause a frown
Of this I have no doubt!

My long past prime was lost in time;
No longer do I run.
I read much more than years before;
A stationary fun.

I hid from him and was quite slim
Through all my teaching years,
But I retired and he conspired
To play on ageing fears.

I do not mind the days I find
Another hair so gray,
Instead I will be enjoy life 'till
He carries me away!