Reflection On Old Age

Reflection on old age. When I was in my sixties, I wrote a poem “Do I Dare to be old?” Now almost twenty years later, I have no answer it is down to luck and modern medicine. Not that I have done anything beneficial regarding my health, I was young once with all its drama Love intrigues, cigarettes, booze and late nights. I have long since gotten rid of the fear of death it simply means the end of life, the privilege of being born. I carry the grocery home, and always have But I have got rid of my motorbike, which helped me explore the land where I live Walking is difficult; diabetes has seen to that. A pacemaker keeps the heart ticking smoothly. Although I drive my car daily, it is in the slow lane to the irritation of cars behind me. My physical strength, of which I was proud has gone and since I’m not into mountain climbing. It doesn’t matter, except for carrying groceries that is getting heavier the less I buy. My writing is not getting anywhere; no fame knocks the door of ego, I’m okay with this, the less unknown I’m, suits me well. My normality is a burden wish I had been an eccentric long hair and sandals, as it is I’m bald.