“Aged”
(7/4/2024 Tom Entrican)
It is what you get when the rust starts its fight
Oh the creeks of the clunker unfold with rage
Mileage alters our gait and yellows the eye
We fall victim to that monster called age
Oh the tales of wisdom and lots of respect
And the promises of pension as our earned wage
Stale coffee and breadcrumbs we are likely to get
The young play games with the ones who have aged
Sure we get grumpy, raising grand kids will do
When are they moving out, oh so vague
But still we pay bills with the drag of our shoe
And the baggage we carry gets so aged
We sink ever deeper into that big chair
With our napping, like the old wise sage
And lest we forget, the lacking of hair
We get shorter and stouter, we’ve aged
The enemy stairs, elevators the cure
And occasionally have fits of righteous rage
This makes us stronger, our faith more pure
As we are herded to the home for the aged
Still all in all, we indeed had our fun
And we still find the time to pray
Heaven awaits when our life here is done
That makes me feel okay being aged.