The Song of the Old-Timers
Ashes to ashes
dust to dust,
my body’s slowly
turning to rust.
There’s more behind
than lies ahead.
My favourite place
is in my bed.
Teeth I keep
in a jar,
glasses never
very far,
can’t hear things
when they are said,
all my troubles
are in my head.
My memory
is growing dim
but I can still
remember him;
he can still
remember me,
we’ll carry on
and let it be.
Life’s for the living
so it’s said
and us old folks,
we’re not yet dead.
I like your song, and hope you continue singing it for a while to come. And that I can harmonise...
ReplyDeleteThere is peace in getting old and it certainly is a privilege that not everyone gets. The things that happen to our bodies is not that pleasant, but if you just go with the flow and accept and laugh, these years can be very good.
ReplyDeleteI can certainly identify with this! Well done. I thought about writing a poem about dementia for Poetry Monday, but wasn't finding the humour in it just then. Went with Ogden Nash instead :)
ReplyDeleteLove this. My favourite place is my bed too. Thankfully, I don't need to keep my teeth in a jar.
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely and I can relate to your words and those of your other commenters too.
ReplyDeleteGood wishes for the coming week, I'm sure I'm already a day behind !!!
All the best Jan