To Become Old

To become old is not so fun,

Forgetting most the things ive done.

My glasses are old and my sight is poor,

My knees getting weaker.

my gait shuffles as i walk to the door.

My memory is shot,

My voice quivering a lot.

My teeth are all gone,

My food finely chopped.

Sleep avoids me most every nite,

My body is full of aches,

No relief in sight.

My body slowly falling apart,

How much longer till death do me part.

Getting old is not much fun.