Aged

“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.