To Live A Hundred? Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

To live a hundred, I cannot
Imagine how it will be
With silvery hair and all that
Oh, on a wheelchair I could be.

There will be bladder trouble,
And my memory may falter-
Perhaps I will be able
To wear polka dotted diaper?

My teeth will sink in the corn cub,
And my ears will dwell in silence;
Lip reading! There's the rub,
And this silly incontinence.

Names won't be remembered
And faces will be vague,
I may struggle with each word-
Yes, old age is such a plague.

I cannot go to a hundred,
I may opt until I'm seventy
For senility is what I dread
When I go, I want to know I'm me!