Oh the Joy of Old Age
When the young start calling you "deary"
You know that things are going south
And ask if you want the senior discount
All with that smarmy smirk of the mouth
Shopping becomes a sad affair at best
Cute clothes don't fit a drooping frame
Your wardrobe consists of cover-ups
And the bulges showing really are a shame.
The memory goes, I cant find my keys
Did I take my pills or feed the darn cat?
I'm supposed to buy eggs or was it cheese
Doesn't matter, I'm just a crazy old bat
Getting old is not "golden years" as they say
It's more about hanging on as best you can
And trying to find some small joy in each day
But now really, who thought up this ridiculous plan....
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2014
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