To the One Turning Forty

[prechrous] (one last time) At thirty-nine you dance with ease, You bend and bend, no worry of seize, Sleep shallow, hangovers short, Muscles burning feels good. [verse] forty sits just past this door, whispering bones you can’t ignore. Recovery slows, each night’s long toll, Quiet aches creep closer to the soul. try to eat without regret, but metabolism’s has no respect laugh off calories like they’re air, And mirror’s truth — lines, greys declare. Late nights fade, energy wanes, Responsibility evolves, truth remains. Partying’s cost becomes clear and seen: Tiredness, lower mood, silent routine. [bridge] This is a warning, but also a gift: Wisdom grown, sharp senses lift. Patience blossoms where haste retires. In the ash, sparks new fire. heed this: enjoy your final hours of thirty, Store up rest, ignore the flirty Call of “just one more,” but body screaming (no!). 'cause forty comes with lessons slow. [verse] Vision dims for work close by, Reading lights no longer shy. Hair, nails, joints crack when every rise, feeling each sunrise like a surprise. You’ll carry stress in unseen loads, Burnout creeps along the roads. Family, work, adulting's swell, “Self-care” becomes a sacred thrill.