A 72-year-old’s moving poem on getting older
Seasons of Life
I've reached the autumn of my life
Now little bits are falling
Boobies reaching for the ground
Ears not hearing when you're calling
My limbs have somewhat weakened
Golden hair has turned to grey
I think I hear speak to me
But I've forgotten yesterday
Flat tummy, tight bum
They're all things of the past
Brittle bones are part of me now
Just like this plaster cast
Four eyes not two help me read a book
My face has many wrinkles now
I'm looking bloody crook
When we are out walking
If I stumble and fall down
Will you reach out and help me
With a smile and not a frown
Will you look upon me as a nuisance
Or a treasure from the past
Or some fossilised old lady to gotten rid of fast
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