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Growing Old
Often when I can’t sleep I compose things in my head (maybe it’s the start of hearing voices…oops!). The other night I felt a bit poetic and made up a poem. Thought I might as well put it on Accy Web, sorry about that.
Growing Old.
When you are small they prepare you for school
So that when you go there you’re nobody’s fool.
While you’re at school and doing your learning
They prepare you for when you are actually earning.
They prepare you to go out and look for a mate
And possibly prepare you to then procreate.
But nobody prepares you for when you are old
What to expect, you’re never told
The creaks and the groans as you rise from a chair
The loss of some teeth and often your hair.
Rubs, pills and strong potions, they’re part of your life
Modern technology can cause you some strive.
Less keen is the hearing, the eyesight is fading
And bodily functions are often degrading
The temple that once was a body so fine
Is sagging and wrinkled as it starts to decline
Old men solve world problems as they sit at the bars
Their scooters are parked where they once parked their cars.
Growing old ain’t so pretty but I don’t give a care
It sure beats the hell out of not getting there.
Here’s to all of us old ‘uns – may we all keep on keeping on.
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