My Golden Years
As my golden years have arrived
I find I am losing my touch
Everything I pick up I drop
And it annoys me, oh so much
I find it is so much easier
To just throw it on the floor
I know I will drop it anyway
Like so many times before
It makes no difference what it is
It will slip from my grasp
Those fingers will also fail me
If I try to undo any clasp
Buttonholes become the next issue
That makes me want to cry
Buttons too big, holes too small
The ensuing torture makes me cry
I find my arms are too short
And sometimes they are too long
My eyesight dictates their length
Focusing on an object, always wrong
Sometimes I find myself on my back
How I got there, I don’t know
The ground reaches out, grabs me
As I writhe in pain down below
I find I don’t bounce near as well
As I did when I was a kid
The stiffness I feel the next day
Dictates how my health has slid
Here I am in my golden years
I can’t see or grasp anything
I can’t stand up or button my shirt
Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings!