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59 and Knocking Wood

Eight decades and a half old is my mom.
Nine years and half a century am I.
How quickly I have aged gives me a qualm,
but one good thing - I now CAN'T multiply!

And right behind my mom I'm following. . .
The white hairs keep appearing; it's with dread
I picture myself one day swallowing
my food with dentures stuck inside my head!

Mom always was athletic till her knees
gave out. . . so walking fast she does no more.
But luckily, she has no grave disease.
I think she just too often scrubbed the floor!

Well, I don't "stoop" to drudgery. Knock wood!
At least my knees might possibly stay good.

For the Humorous Poetry Contest of Thomas Martin


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  1. Date: 4/21/2015 12:36:00 AM

    I like it! Well written, Andrea.
  1. Date: 4/20/2015 10:07:00 PM

    Funny, funny end!
  1. Date: 4/20/2015 9:06:00 PM

    ha! this is wonderful, andrea! love the ending especially...
  1. Date: 4/20/2015 9:05:00 PM

    G'day Andrea... absolutely did I enjoy your sonnet. A great story indeed. Thank you - Lindsay
  1. Date: 4/20/2015 8:41:00 PM

    I love the humour of this. And the honesty. You have a great talent for humour. #7