Getting old looks like you singing:

Everything changes
But everything
Stays the same

Is a song
A silver-tongued fox
Whispers in your ear

As you brush your teeth
And file labor lawsuits.
While seshing, too.

Like honey it flows
Into the palate of the mind
And finds hold

In a secondary bin
So all you can feel is the weight
And the sweetness

But not the rot.
You become a fable,
A frog

In the boil.
A slow affair.

And the flare with tedium building up sounds like this:

You look well
You’ve kept well
You’ve kept well away
You’ve kept everyone away
You’ve kept him away
You’ve stayed away

You waste away

You look well

The charm will
At least
Five years