-I think I might have the answer-

It’s all in the comings and goings. 

the young pass through time navigating

year to year without a sense of delineation.

and the old? well, for most, (they) slow-down

nestled into more calming periods,––

the years becoming deliberate, reflective,
allowing for the sorting-out of the accumulated.

(they) hang around at the borders of commotion

often grumbling at the activities of others, forgetting

that commotion was once once reserved solely for (them),

–– now (they're) left to consider chicken broth, encroaching

visits of priests, and fading recollections of long lost memorabilia.

and if they want you, if they call your name, if the kids

are a nuisance, if the broth is too cold, the old-timers

will grunt a phrase of sorts while shaking a hand up and down

from a limp wrist to emphasize the problem.

and by the way, you might be able to force them to do it, but

the grandchildren don't want to kiss (them).