This poem is an attempt at a wee bit of Irish humor.
I was about four when this picture was taken.

I turned 75 last week,
and getting to that age
has been quite A feat!

I've walked through days
of misery and pain.
Loved and laughed in life's
sweet refrains.

Now my hair is as white as snow.
My steps are slow every where I go.
I'm hard of hearing at selective times
and have trouble counting a bunch of dimes.

Where did all those golden years go?
I have not found one person who really knows.

It's really hard to be this age ,
and I don't like it one darn itsy bit.

Onward I go in my quest to attain, writer's stardom
and a small amount of poetic fame!