The speaker begins with a small contradiction. Nobody likes being called old, yet we happily use the word for our friendships, loves and relationships, where "old" sounds warm, trusted, even precious. The speaker asks us to notice that odd double standard.
From there the poem loosens its grip on the idea of age altogether. Maybe we are older than we thought, maybe younger, and the repeated "may be" keeps the answer open on purpose. The speaker doesn't seem interested in settling it.
The real point lands in the last lines: in the space between those uncertain guesses, "we don't have ages... / We only have moments." The ellipsis gives that thought a pause, as if the speaker is discovering it while writing. The mood is gentle, reflective and quietly reassuring. Instead of worrying about numbers, the poem invites us to value what we actually live through: the moments themselves.