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Wednesday, 2 February 2005
On Getting Old
Topic: Poetry and Poets
I am sure I have aged at least a month over the past ten days! Far too many late nights sitting at my computer well into the early hours. The trouble is that I have been sitting down at my keyboard around 11:00 or 11:30pm, with a mug of coffee by my side (I know, coffee late at night is very bad!) and, two or three hours later, I suddenly noticed the time. Then, when I did go to bed, I couldn't get to sleep!

Someone once said that it is a sign of age if you feel like the morning after the night before and you haven't been anywhere. Perhaps, I should go 'somewhere' and see how I feel? My memory's failing - my head's in a spin... Well, this poem says it all! Someone had bought one of those fun laminated cards and had pinned it on the wall in the corridor of my old office many years ago. I liked the poem so much I took it down and photocopied it. It was printed without any verses so that it could all fit on an A4 card but I think it looks better like this. The author is unknown but I suspect it must have been written by a Senior Citizen! Only a revered elder from the elite club of the retired would know how we feel and how to put it all into words! Hope you enjoy it!

I'm Very Well Thank You

There is nothing the matter with me,
I'm as healthy as I can be,
I have arthritis in both my knees,
And when I talk - I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin,
But - I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

Arch supports I have for my feet,
Or I wouldn't be able to be out on the street,
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I'm alright.
My memory is failing, my head's in a spin,
But - I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

The moral is this - as my tale I unfold,
That for you and me who are getting old,
It's better to say 'I'm fine' with a grin,
Than to let folks know the shape we are in.
How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my 'get up and go' has got up and went.

But I really don't mind when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my 'got up' has bin.
Old age is golden I've heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed,
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My specs on a table until I get up.

'Ere sleep overtakes me I say to myself,
Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels right over my head,
When I was older my slippers were blue,
But I still could dance the whole night through.

Now I am old my slippers are black,
I walk to the shop and puff my way back,
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
And pick up the paper to read the 'obits',
If my name is still missing I know I'm not dead;
And so I have breakfast and - go back to bed.

Author unknown


Posted by Noviomagus at 17:50 GMT Post Comment | Permalink

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