Grade A Grey Poem by Mary Champion

It's good being old while I'm healthy and able.
It's good being old - I can read at the table.
There's no one will care if I let myself go
for no one will notice me - that much I know.
If I did all I could to disguise where I'm flawed,
I'd still be a wrinkly. I'd still be ignored.

It's easy to live with the low expectations
that everyone has of their ancient relations.
Excused from the onerous, unfulfilled duty
of being a sex object - figure of beauty.
It's good being old; not a victim of fashion,
relaxing not being a target of passion.

It's good being old - now I feel less like crying.
I can live with the fact that I'm closer to dying:
closer to Wisdom and closer to Truth
and free of the angst that so blighted my youth.