Getting Old
Getting old
Reading the papers this morning
was a sad affair, so many of the famous stars of yesteryear
had succumbed to old age.
They were as I´m in their eighties and I felt their death
as a sting in my heart, soon it will be my time to go
I accept this, but will not sink into depression.
Of everything that has happened in my life I feel no guilt
hindsight is a waste of time, my lack of success is a bonus
I have no laurel to rest on and can do as I please.
What is noticeable is my lack of understanding
of a language that has changed it is more lose now and
that is good, but it takes some effort.
The river of words I bathed in, flows slower now it is
a struggle to find the right expression, I feel as I´m
learning to swim in colder water.
Living in Portugal as I do is fine they are gentler here
and has patience when I struggle for words in shops
I have to resort to poetic expressions.
They smile broadly and think what a funny old man
I don´t mind, my wife leans heavily on her crutch,
and she gets first in line. We try to look decrepit.
At the end of this month, I need a new driving license
I have spring in my steps, luckily my eyesight is good
and the heart and diabetes go unmentioned.
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment