As I Grow Old Poem by Austin Heffner

Crawling on the floor as fast as I can,
To find myself walking and banging on pans.
Now look at me driving a minivan.
Bumping and jumping to the hip hop bands.
Only in the future reading scans after scans
And noticing you have a broken hand.
Hand in marriage isn’t wrong, until your wife kicks the can and falls.
Now only you can pull it thorough but,
Your only friend is your bed pan next to you.
Then at the viewing, so very sad. Did he get a spray on tan?
Buried in dirt and with the sand, his tome stone read “The Happy Man.”
Life is the same for every man,
Working hard to reach his plan.