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Poem

Coffin dodgers and nursing home lodgers,
wrinklies, pensioners and plain old codgers.
A drain on society, archaic models of piety,
bed blockers, youth knockers, paragons of sobriety.

But is all that we see, all that it seems,
the elderly, like you, still have hopes and dreams.
Still carry the baton for tomorrow's youth,
the keepers of history, the sentinels of truth.

Though the fire is out, there still burns a flame,
which, if fanned by interest, could burgeon again.
Igniting a beacon, a fantastic life force,
a living library, a priceless resource.

So, honour your old folk, cut them some slack,
for a lot of them have been to hell and back.
They've built the society we now take for granted,
so enjoy the fruits of the seeds that they planted.

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