Shirley Hawkins Poet Couplet

Old Whine

I was 86 two weeks ago
It's no wonder that I move slowly.

My brain is racing down a track,
Looking for lost bits that won't come back.

My spelling is getting worse,
Which upsets me and makes me feel terse

Terse and frustrated, old and grey
Few can understand the things I say.

I do not know myself,
I could be a dusty vase perched on a shelf.

A vase that once was admired,
Now out of fashion, no longer desired.

A relic of another age
Tottering on the last page

Of an 86-year-old book
That is nearing its end,

But are there other chapters?
For me and others to look at

Before I go around the bend
I have much to comprehend.

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Victor Buhagiar October 10, 2023 at 8:47 AM I'm 83 and already feel the ageing proses. My muse has nearly left me. But you seem to be in full swing. Blessings. Shirley Hawkins October 10, 2023 at 3:52 PM Thank you. Victor, for your kind comments. I do not think your muse is ever far away from you; you are a gifted poet, and your poems are heartfelt, varied, wise and articulate. ( A poet in every sense of the word) At 83 and 86, we have lived a long time; even though we have been blessed, I have started to question the reason why.

Gershon Wolf October 9, 2023 at 7:17 PM The feeling - acknowledged. The possibility - detected. The challenge: to overcome the first to rise to the second. Go, girl! ~ Gershon

Karen Jones October 8, 2023 at 8:33 PM This poem effectively communicates how one feels about aging. U did a great job using the vase analogy. I suppose we all mourn aging but the alternative is to die so which is worse? I like this poem because it is real.