The years they come and go,
Decades of memories from the past…
As you grow older and much wiser,
Those grey hairs appearing fast…
The small print is getting smaller,
Blurred beyond belief…
You’ll need to buy some glasses,
To give your eyes relief…
It will be those little things,
That will start to make you swear…
Like when you lose your bloody balance,
Just putting on your underwear…
It’s the geriatric Olympics,
And it’s on its way for you,
Slowly rolling in,
One day right out the blue…
Where every day’s a challenge,
As you embark on this campaign…
A mixture of drugs and remedies,
To numb the daily pain…
Arthritis in your joints,
Swelling of your knees…
The memory is slowly fading,
You can throw your back out when you sneeze…
But you can find some solitude,
From this humble handicap…
Each afternoon at 2pm,
With a good old nanna nap…
Len Newey 2022