I worry some ‘bout getting old
It’ not the dying truth be told
It’s more about the little things
The subtle losses aging brings
My hearing seems to be less clear
My eye sight fuzzy lest I’m near
The wrinkling skin the shape I’m in
The artificial parts within
But most of all I hate the way
My mind goes blank I cannot say
The “senior moments” come along
Can’t find the name, the word, the song
I’ve often said when thinking so
I hope that if my mind does go
It goes completely all the way
So I won’t know it anyway
However, on my better days
I do not worry ‘bout these ways
I stay as grateful as I can
For all the ways that I still am
It’s why I write most ev’ry day.
To keep the mind clicking away
To think of many things to say
Some serious and others play
And friends if you have read thus far
I pray that you’re also at par
That as you age you to will be
Able to think, to hear, and see