Senectitude is Re Wreck Ta Tude
My teeth are failing, my gums blowing darts
My hands are spotted,
Grandma hands, and she has been gone fifty-five years.
Yet I look down and there they are
Surprising they are not crocheting
Or knitting or soothing a crying child.
They are perpetually typing.
My eyes are going; they have lost their lilt.
They no longer sing...
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