Old Age Poem by David McLansky

There is less shame now as she helps me to my bed;
She props me up as my legs go dead;
My dexterity of step has nimbly fled;
Old age has sapped my strength despite my cautious tread;

Once without thought bed rest restored;
I’d fall asleep without my mind absorbed;
Refreshed, I would rise,
Slightly bored;
Now I watch the clock, an exhausting chore.

I have the strength to chart my own decline
Although I’m no longer agile in my mind;
I’m wise enough to know I’m running out of time,
And there is no point in seeking a warmer clime;

I’ll roll up to a stairway with despair;
Mountains I’ll traverse with those who care;
My Old Lady is amply prepared,
As I go blind and dully drool and stare