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Poem

It’s a milestone at least, chalk it up as a feat,
That your younger self never thought you could meet.
But how does it feel, this crossroads you face?
It’s a case of you got there, it’s no fall from grace.

Are there any advantages to this dreadful affair?
They call getting old, it’s simply not fair.
It’s gone in a flash, yesterday I was ten!
Only to be reminded, that was way back when.

I snore all the more, the hairs are a pain,
Grow in all the wrong places, again and again.
And the hairs on my head, they see not the sun,
Receding to follicles from whence they begun. 

As grumpiness sets, becoming part of the psyche,
Talking to oneself becomes ever more likely.
The stares from the driver pulling up alongside,
Are testimony to the depths I reside.

Don’t get me on sight, or my hearing, please no,
In chatter I nod but it’s only for show.
I recognise no-one at distance these days,
I’m waving profusely to strangers not phased. 

It has its advantages though, I’m assured.
Free prescriptions for one, I’ll maybe be cured,
Of the ailments, I once couldn’t pronounce,
That now lick their lips as they poise to pounce. 

It’s funny though, your priorities differ,
From the innuendoes that caused you to bicker.
It’s a new priority, what will be will be,
Live in the present, the future ‘we’ll see.’

Those dreams you once had to get to the top,
Are now different dreams, as the ego you drop.
You can reminisce, with some sense of pride,
The events of your life, it’s one hell of a ride.

At sixty there’s wonder, enlightenment.
No stature, no dreams, no entitlement.
It’s life you revere, just making the best,
Of this world we all cherish, we’re merely a guest.

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