How old am I? She asked.
Well, I’m assuming it’s “her”.
“How old are you?” She asks.
“You tell me”, and I start.
I’m young enough to take a stranger out,
And old enough to hold the door for her.
I’m young enough to chat in abbreviations,
And old enough to sit down for a real conversation.
I’m young enough to post stories,
And old enough to write letters.
I’m young enough to think of more than one girl,
And old enough to know the only woman I need.
I’m young enough to join a school,
And old enough to start one too.
I’m young enough to drive in speed,
And old enough to know when I need it.
I’m young enough to earn all that I dream of,
And old enough to be happy within.
I’m young enough to make new friends,
And old enough to have very few.
I’m young enough to come to hug you straight,
And old enough to know you don’t want to yet.
I’m young enough to know I’ve got time,
And old enough to know that life’s short.
So you tell me,
If the numbers define,
How old I truly am.
