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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