When You'Re 70
When you’re 70. A pondering by Michele Angell.
OK, so in June, I became seventy,
That’s a nice round figure to be,
I still have some of my own teeth
And with glasses, I’m still able to see.
My skin is not quite as firm
As it was just a few years ago,
And my bottom is heading down south,
On an uncontrolled ‘go slow’.
My bones and my body do ache,
Arthur Itis is not a good chap,
And I can’t wait to see just how fast
My boobs take to end up in my lap.
However, my mind is still a bit quirky
And my thoughts are just as mad,
I’ve space in my imagination, for
…well, at least minutes of fun to be had.
My body may be in decline
But my mind is as active as ever,
Although it sometimes fails,
To string two ideas together.
No, being 70 is not at all
What it’s really cracked up to be,
But it’s better than pushing up daisies,
I’m alive, but a silly old me.
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