Old
Nine-tenths a century old is my mom
Well over half a century am I.
How quickly we both aged gives me a qualm.
At least my body 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 scrubbed floors on her knees.(much UNLIKE me).
Her knees gave out; perhaps mine will stay good?
She's got no bad diseases, luckily.
I pray I'll age as gracefully . . . knock wood!
Nov. 26, 2020
For Tania Kitchin's Make Me Laugh With Some Humor - Any Form - New Poems Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2020
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