gershon hepner

(5 3 38 / leipzig)

four ages

Before we turn into a stiff
life has four stages––here’s the riff.
The first stage is when we are young,
a story that is gladly sung,
and lasts until we’re sixty five,
and after that if we’re alive
we enter what’s now all the rage,
and called by most the “young old age.”
It lasts until we’re seventy-four,
when we pass through another door,
becoming what is called “old old, ”
which lasts till eighty-four, I’m told,
when all lapse into old that oldest,
the stage where only those who’re boldest
may dare to play their final role,
until they’re buried in a hole,
unless, of course, they predecease,
and can’t attend your obsequies.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Edited: Wednesday, July 21, 2010

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Comments about this poem (four ages by gershon hepner )

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  • Gina Onyemaechi (5/3/2006 2:10:00 AM)

    Yes, let's all poke our tongues out at the ageing process! LOL! Speaking of which, let me wish you a wonderful 68th year of life along with continued and lasting happiness and success of every kind.
    Gina. (Report) Reply

  • Sandra Erickson (5/2/2006 10:41:00 PM)

    This is entirely too damned amusing, Gershon....yeeeesh....and not funny at all. ((sigh)) You NEVER let your hair go grey! Better red- then, dead.
    Sandra, tottering forward.... (Report) Reply

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