An Ode To Old Age
Old age is golden,I've heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder as I go to bed,
my ears in a drawer.my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table,until I wake up
Ere sleep dims my eyes,I say to myself,Is there anything more I can lay on the shelf.But I'm happy to say as I close the door,
My friends are the same as in days of yore.
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels right over my head.
When I got older my slippers were blue,
I could still dance the whole night through.Now I am older my slippers are black,
I walk to the corner & puff myself back.
The reason I know that my youth is spent,
My get up & go has got up & went
But I really don't mind,when I think with a grin,
of all the places my get up has been.
Since I retired from life's competitions,
I busy myself with complete repetitions.
I get up each morning & dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the obits,
If my name is missing I know I'm not dead,
I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
This is one of the poems a lady in her nineties used to recite at our meetings. There was nothing wrong with her memory though!!She gave me a copy of all the poems she recited.