Why do you show me this face?
It only brings me to tears
With dark circles about sunken eyes
Now it shows its years.
Why do you show me this face,
This face I knew so well.
With Eyes that cease to sparkle,
Now tears have begun to swell.
Why do you show me this face?
With skin that no longer shines
Worn and lined around the lips,
No laughter lines.
Why do you show me this face?
Why, mirror, must you reflect so bold
For all I see is time’s own trace
where youth once burned like gold.
Put me not in the old people’s home
Where it smells of piss and the neglected moan
I’d rather you drift me out to sea
Where I can be forever free.
I will eat what I want, when I want
I will do as is my penchant
I will go to bed when I like
I might even ride a bike.
Being put into a warehouse for the aged
Would simply make me feel caged
I assure you the light will still shine within
Even if you can’t see it under my old skin.
And when I pass, do not cry
For I’ll have no regrets as I die
But be happy, I do implore
As I pass on over to the other shore.
Every day’s a little life
Separated from tomorrow
No more days of muted strife
Ageing dilutes my sorrow
Time goes faster, I slow down
Living in the past that moves
But you cannot be around
Like you were, in our youth
That passed by before our eyes
Like a butterfly in August
Fluttered off, but still it flies
In the memories I trust
You said look, and there I saw
The green field was stretching out
Like a hundred years before
Maybe more, I didn’t count.
Does it seem inevitable to you
That ageing provide with calmness
You get sociopathic too
More addicted to aloneness
When you were young you felt salvaged
Protected by the wise and sane
But you’ve grown old and disengaged
And everything’s becoming plain
The wise support the power drunk
Against their will, but maybe not
Some of them watch their wisdom sunk
They might enjoy it quite a lot
And simply put, we are still here
Simplicity is not a blame
Cause every moment you appear
I’m blessed to hear you say my name.
A brief but deep connection
As we lock eyes across the room
And I have a sense of pain
I feel the saddest surrender
To what life does to you
Over the incessantness of time
I watch as she so slowly settles
Muscles not so lithe in age
But wide eyes still locked with mine
Somehow it is a shared moment
Perhaps a camaraderie that we share
Age borne aches give the same knowing
There is nothing souls can do
But live out the gift of time
The Universe has lovingly bestowed
Different species but each enduring
Living in the same time and space
And having some symbiotic purpose
That is the perplexity of life
© AllenA 2025
Life is a heavy hat,
we wear it, and we learn to bear it,
as we age the debris grows,
bright chapeau that once was trimmed with flowers
attains a brim of dirty crows, that peck and eat our dreams,
crap filthy ropes and jump upon the battered crown
weighing down upon our ancient heads,
yet somewhere underneath the mess, we smile
warriors all, those of us who tread the long and weary miles,
for we have hope, that small and shrunken ghost
companion of our youthful days
she follows as we turn each corner
not quite the cheerful girl she used to be
but clinging on,
the wraith of expectation
There are tulips in the gutter
perfect blooms,
destined for dinner with a friend,
they were meant for the table
but alas she was unable to attend
.WE'RE NOT GETTING OLDER WE'RE'GETIN' WISER1
NOW ALL WE HAVE TO DO IS FIGURE OUT...
WHAT WE'RE GETTING WISER AT
MY WISER AT WHAT I'D PERSONALLY SHOUT,...
LIKE CAREIN' FOR MY GARDEN ;'. ADVICE GIVIN'..
KNOIN' WHERE TO FETCH BETTER ADVICE,
TO REACH MY AMBITION GOALS ...
MUCH BETTER TO ATAIN WISDOM,
AWISE MAN ONCE SAID...
MATHEW . MARK , LUKR & JOHN ;
HOLD MY HORSE WHILE I GET ON...
OH ON MY WAY TO READ BIBLICAL PAUL,
AGEING BETTER,MORE WISER.
WHAT IS WHAT THAT 'DASH' BETWEEN ...
YOUR BIRTH DATE - YOUR DEATH DATE.
NOW THIS IS A SMIDGIN OF WHAT IS MY SO WHAT
NOTE: I'M USEING CAPS SIMPLY CAUSE I CAN'T SEE SMALL - SORRY
Everything's been written
Everything's been said
Notes that I have scribbled
Have long been put to bed
Pictures which I've painted
Aren't hanging in the Louvre
Most of my paint has dried
My mojos lost its groove
The voice is like gravel
On a much travelled road
Trodden down over years
And silenced by the cold
The face in the mirror
Looks so ragged and worn
Appears as though it's been
Through many of life's storms
The legs, too, are weary
Steps are smaller each day
And like the sands of time
The footprints fade away
I, at last, then think back
On the days of the past
Amazing how ageing
Seems to happen so fast
Unexpectedly I grew old.
Yesterday I was seventeen
With all my hopes and silly dreams.
I was often told,
Do not grow old,
Old age is for the very brave.
But I didn’t listen, hadn’t a care,
Chose to ignore the odd grey hair,
Chose not to believe what harsh sunlight revealed,
Preferring candlelight and what it concealed.
Found ways to excuse the much slower pace,
Getting through life was never a race,
Found missing items in the oddest of places
And laughed off the memory lapses.
Then waking one night to silence and darkness
I knew it was time to confess,
I had wasted my life, had not taken chances
Had not taken part in life’s myriad dances,
Never seized the moment, never chose to dare,
Never waltzed through life with hardly a care.
And now I knew I could no longer ignore
What the rest of my life had in store:
A time to reflect,
A time of regret,
With only myself to blame.
It's not so bad, I say,
Part of our ride today,
Health and mobility our stage,
To this golden age,
Wake up to say,
"Let's get positive, yah!"
Old power chaps and miss
You have so got this,
No need, negative blip,
Ageing process is our trip!
Got old,
It's not so bad,
Wrinkle age, bucket lists,
Option far worse, naught to discuss,
No fuss.
The Friday that is here today
was here yesterday, of course.
That's what getting older seems to be, to do:
today was yesterday
was the day before
and before.
It's my weekly washday today -
weekly, but was here yesterday,
or so it appears.
Always appears to be.
Yes, so it seems,
and seems.
Time is a concertina.
Friday was a week from Friday,
then three or four days
before those days closed in,
closed in, closer and closer.
A concertina can squeal and whine.
(21 Oct 2023)
Ageing has its cons that l know
Yet it also comes with many pros
Its a time of great joy and appreciation
Life’s beauty and gifts hold boundless admiration
Simple pleasures once just accepted
Hold value and gratitude, not merely expected
No longer do l care what is thought of me
I know who l am and that makes me happy
I don’t worry about the small stuff any more
I know the importance in life that is for sure
I know my flaws as l know my qualities
For being me l make no apologies
For me its simplicity now all the way
Be kind, laugh lots, be myself…..because It’s all ok!
So when the cons of ageing get you down
Try your best to look around
And see the pros there to be found!
I await sweet Annabelle
as I rest in this lonely bower.
I yearn to hear her angel voice
and feel her healing power.
Others come and others go
in times I'm given to folly,
like buxom Jenny Ramsbottom
and then there's fulsome Molly.
Sometime I forget their names,
it's so hard to keep a tally.
Some bore with their chitter-chat,
especially one named Sally.
I sometime wish for solitude
How long will this persist?
My age is catching up on me
and I doubt they all exist.
But one there is who is for sure
and she's s my favourite nurse.
Begone ye mad romantic dreams.
Sister Jane is down to earth.
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