Old, Who, Me
Old, who , me?
I am told I am old,
Old, what is that?
I am old in my body,
This I have to agree,
The lying mirror tells me,
This is what others see.
When it comes to my head,
And I ask if I'm old,
Another story then gets told.
In my head I am young and sleek,
My physical body is at it's peek.
I survey a job that has to be done,
In my head it done before I begun.
My eyes then told me what was real,
Then old was what I began to feel.
The job I surveyed was still at the stage,
Of planning, I hadn't even turned the page.
I had to admit that along the way,
Plans my mind were going astray.
Now that I'm in my twilight years,
I have put aside all my silly fears,
I look at a job and if I can do it myself
I won't place it on someone else's shelf.
But if I cannot, then I will not cry.
I just say to myself with a little sigh,
Maybe when I am young again, I'll try.
© Dave Timperley 31/01/2018
Copyright © Dave Timperley | Year Posted 2019