Everyone Is Getting Older But Me Poem by George Bernard Hough

I`ve lived here now for forty years,
happy times with so few cares.
I walk along my village street,
sometimes with my neighbours meet,
conversation at times engaged,
but how my neighbours have all aged!

Relatives and friends as well
have succombed to that tolling bell
of time that brings about the signs
with hearing loss and facial lines.
Why have they come to look so old?
with aching limbs and feeling cold.

Another thing I notice too,
I sometimes have to wonder who?
The person is I meet by chance.
Did we cavort once at a dance?
They seem to think that they know me,
their memory must be running free!


And why do friends as if by choice
speak to me in a lower voice?
Their vocal chords must loose with age,
at times it gets me in a rage.
I`m sure that if they really tried
they could be heard more far and wide.

And here am I still in my prime,
on my face no single line,
a little twinge when I bend down,
but not enough to bring a frown.
A young face in my mirror, see,
looking with a smile at me.

I could run the london marathon,
tackle a lion one to one,
climb a tree jump over gates,
lift a bodybuilders weights.
these things i`m sure that I can do,
just simply never choosing to.


I look the same as years go by,
can run and jump just do not try.
My aching back is just a strain,
a little pill, its right again!
One tiny thing is wrong with me,
my mind aint what it used to be!

Copyright B Hough 2011