As I hover in my hoveround
My feet no longer tread the ground -
So nice to have a moving seat
My little world is now complete;
Each day I take a little pill
To slow the urge of bladder fill,
And when it works as it intends
I have no need to wear depends;
You just don't know how good it feels
To have someone bring in your meals -
No longer do I stand and cook,
I microwave and read a book;
My TV volume's locked on high,
My new 'date' is the cable guy,
I click the channels from my chair -
My days pass by without a care;
The highlight of my life it seems
Are senior trips and pastlife dreams,
My doctor's visit makes my day,
And later on there's cards to play;
It's not so bad, this growing old -
Except my bones don't like the cold,
But I can cuddle in a quilt,
While youngsters work - I have no guilt;
When I was younger I worked hard
But now I'm old and I'm so tired -
And now I live my just reward -
I sit and click, but I'm not bored;
I've even had my knees replaced,
My teeth inside a jar encased,
My wig I keep beside my bed............
I may be old, but I'm not dead!
This one's for you, Greg!
Linda, Sorry, I am just not buying that whole senility thing! ... well, not until you beam me up into your hoveround! I guess it all Depends on how much Poise you have, doesn't it ? B.V.A.
I feel the joy of being an old; that's sadness Nothing to repent Linda as you have seen the world and the people, Life is an accident........anyway you may long live! Best regards, fondly, nimal (I am in your native soil for the time being.)
Continuing laughs from our humourous Linda. I particularly liked the 1st,2nd, and 8th stanzas the most. Not to put the pressure on you, but perhaps this could parlay into a whole 'Senility' series of poems? Thanks ever so much for the dedication. Today I peered in the mirror merely to find Four more gray hairs, fourteen crow's feet lines, Put in my teeth, applied a dab of Ben-Gay, Trimmed nasal hairs, adjusted partial toupee. Sat down to breakfast of prune juice and bran With hopes of becoming regular again, Attempted to read the Free Press daily news To no avail, my sight must make full use Of spectacles that magnify fine print, No matter how hard eyes ultimately squint, I just can't focus in on current events; Perhaps it's best this level of pretense. -Gregory Gunn
Words of consolation to those who feel old but oiled. May you always be oiled!
If it were not so true I would laugh before I blow my brains out... LOL Are you sure we aren't all dead?
Linda, this is absolutely a fablous poem! As I read your words, they proved a bit uneasy, thinking this is what we all may come to. Great write!
As an over 50 I hope I qualify to laugh at this! It's all coming to us if we hang on long enough! Funny, sad, realistic, clever and as ever, very well written Linda. xx jim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cleverity and wit abound this most entertaining piece, Midnight.a BIT TO THE ECCENTRICAL & SURREAL TO BOOT...I AM QUITE IMPRESSED.... Not that i dinot know you had the skill to venture there, as but of course you always did...just haven't seen it in writin' til now & im lovin' it, lassie! Frank