“Age” – A poem by Les Mullins, from Corpus Christi Retirement Village, Clayton
We all get old before our time
At least we think we do
And many of your precious friends
Are getting older too.
You used to know the footy score
You used to drive a car
But lately you have reached a point
Where you don’t know who you are.
The kids they all gather round
And yes it’s nice to see them
The trouble they all talk at all
And you can hardly hear them.
You say summer is far too hot
And you find winter far too cold
But the climate isn’t changing
It’s just you are getting old.
By now you should have done
All the things you intended
But you don’t control your life
And you can’t get it extended.
Maybe I’m right maybe I’m wrong
It’s only the truth I seek
But I can tell by the look on your face
I’m up the proverbial creek.
As you get older you may find
You get creaking in most of your joints
But this is no excuse I say
To be robbed of your brownie points.
I hope when I get to the pearly gates
St Peter lets me in
I’ll either be met with a darkening face
Or perhaps a welcoming grin.