I saw you at Sixty

I saw you at sixty, you still had your hair,
But the fire I'd known in your eyes wasn't there.

I saw you at fifty, your hair was a mess,
And asked myself why you would drink in excess?

I saw you at forty, your hair was so long.
I would never have guessed that something went wrong.

I saw you at thirty, your hair was tied back,
You were proud of the fact that your life was on track

I saw you at twenty, your hair was cut neat,
You stood ten feet tall when you walked down the street.

I saw you at ten when your hair was so fine,
And smiled when you said that "She'll someday be mine."

On the day you were born you barely had hair,
But those fiery eyes made me stand back and stare.