Bad Bones

BAD BONES When you’re old and grey And your bones are creaking You seldom may feel happy You have entered another day The ever present stick Welded to you hand Torments your inner youth Adding to the injuries An unfair life can bring The gasping as you walk The bloody incessant pain This Old age malarkey seems a wilful Hurtful game Age has its merits If you are still mobile Pity it goes so well With the colour grey Sprightly you are no more You sit and sleep For much of the day And seldom feel the need to cheer A bad mood is only fair When your bones Creak Shudder And make you despair