Do you remember when I wanted to be
The Andy Warhol of the literary world?
Or a New York School-style poet
Those dreams I still cherish
Though, as the years, come and go
They are further and further away from reality
I wonder what I was doing during my life
Now, I am middle-aged
I can't believe I lived this long
Too old and barren, to have a family
I 'll never be a debutante
Maybe, in a senior's home I could be
Life is passing me by
As I walk in this marathon
Only to fall behind