I’m An Octogenarian Poem by Stanley Cooper

I’m an Octogenarian, would you believe
It’s a concept I find most hard to conceive
Since Methuselah made it, I think you’ll agree
If he could make it, then why not me

I’m an Octogenarian, Yea-gads, Holy Cow!
How did I ever get to be this age I’m now? !
I took a long slow happy arduous path
From 1926 to 2006, You do the math

Some say at eighty, the mind’s in a fuzz
Yet I still remember most things that wuz
I can still recall my being seventy-nine
A sure sign, I think, I’m not yet in decline

Seventy-eight, I admit, is slightly dimmer
And of seventy-seven, I don’t have a glimmer
But to prove to you, I’m not yet on the skids
I can rattle off names of all of my kids

Nothing’s more crucial, not at all nearly
Than having at hand those I love dearly
They’ll help me forget my forgetful anxiety
And get on with the business of my getting to ninety