This week Mary Ann Moss (Dispatch from LA) (who has a wonderful blog) asked for thoughts from readers who were in their 70s. It reminded me of a poem I wrote over 20 years ago, when I was about 55, and I shared it with Mary Ann. It occurs to me some of you might enjoy it as well. I may not be as spry as I was when I wrote this poem, but inside I feel the very same as I did then. When my mother was in her 70's, she used to look out the window at her neighbor lady, who was in her 50's, and called her "that old lady who lives next door". Maybe age IS relative after all! Thank you for stopping by, and thanks for reading my little rhyme.
It’s wonderful to be older,
And oh, so very wise…
But I observe I have acquired
Some bags beneath my eyes.
My years of diligent labor
Have made me efficient about the house…
But now, when I look in the mirror,
My knees appear to blouse.
After all my years of practice,
I know quite the proper thing to say…
But I note on close inspection,
My hair is turning gray.
Seniority has its privileges
Of travel beneath foreign flags…
But, when I check my silhouette,
I believe my bottom sags.
When youth defers to me,
I think it’s really sweet…
But, along with that, it’s sad to see
My skin’s begun to pleat.
I’m now loaded with self-confidence
When before a group I speak
But, as I leave the podium,
I hear my joints begin to creak.
Yes, aging has its privileges
And all in all they’re not so bad…
But they would really please me
With that youthful body I had.