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Old



I am at the precipice

Of all the things I dread

Getting old and getting fat

When hair falls from my head


And most of all I’ve lost the thing

That means the most to me

It’s something I depend upon

My short-term memory


Affecting every point of day

Like tripping on a crack

Things just falling off the ledge

And never coming back


Where I parked, and what I ate

What things I need to buy

Simple tasks that need be done

Will from my mind just fly


So now I’ve had to daily write

A list of small reminders

But everyday it grows and grows

I may soon need a binder!


And if I think of something that

I don’t write down right then

It’s gone as quick as whence it came

And won’t come round again


When I was young my memory

Was always sharp as knife

My mother marveled at the skill

I thought I’d have for life


But now I’ve come to realize

That memory is fickle

Vigorous when one is young

But brains, with age, do pickle


It seems to be our lot in life

The aging process sucks

But one good thing with getting old

Is giving no more f**ks…


I won’t lament what I can’t rein

Life’s short with rare release

And better yet, leave me alone

To live what’s left in peace!

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