I am old:
What hair I have left
Is grey;
Wrinkles carve gullies
In my face.
A pot belly
Weaves unsteadily
On tottering pins.
I don’t see as well as before:
Night driving is an adventure.
I don’t hear as well as before:
Sometimes I can only imagine
What people are saying.
The voice falters between coughs.
I can’t get up to much anymore
And things that get up to me
I’d rather they did not.
Growing old may be inevitable,
But it is not very much fun.
I'm with you on that, growing old isn't much fun, but we must go on til the end. I do make the most of each day or try to, although I've not a very satisfactory life any more since 2007
When I broke my ankle back in April, it made me realize that I am not twenty anymore and I was reminded of that by nurses and doctors. I am being much more careful on my mountain bike now. Your poem reminds me to appreciate each healthy day. Thank you (Merci), Chip. Love and peace,
I was playing a round of golf when I came upon two older gentlemen sitting in their golf cart under a tree. I asked them if everything was OK. One replied "We lost our balls." So I pulled up my cart and joined them.
The story of Ron Hull, paralyzed in a surgical accident back in the dreaded polio epidemic days, was able to overcome most of the stigma and stereotypes and "pass for normal" for 30 years. As Ron's paralysis increased gradually through the next 20
The experience of a young adult trying to figure out what they want to do for employment or education can be overwhelming. My book will give them insight to what it means to be a carpenter. And the progress unions have made in discrimination.
Ge
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Regis
Hang in there, it beats the alternative.
Michael D.
Ron