Thoughts on growing old

You come to a room but don't know why
And oft forget to zip your fly
The price of everything seems high
You often shake your head and sigh
You think that youth have gone to pot
Recollect your college 'beer and shot'
You hear how young ones now speak
Your lips tremble knees get weak
Things familiar now seem changed
Old comfortable order- rearranged!
Things you treasured, prized, saved
Are no longer admired, craved
You read Obits in the dying paper
Everywhere mayhem, no place safer
Then staying home, to reminisce
Of things long gone, which you miss
No one to hear your- "In my day"
Grandkids kiss, 'Hi!' but do not stay
You whisper softly " Old was gold"
My friend, like me- you're getting old!