THERE IS NOTHING THE MATTER WITH ME

I’M AS HEALTHY AS CAN BE

I HAVE ARTHRITIS IN BOTH MY KNEES

AND WHEN I TALK I WHEEZE

MY PULSE IS WEAK AND MY BLOOD IS THIN

BUT I’M AWFULLY WELL FOR THE SHAPE I’M IN

ARCH SUPPORTS I HAVE FOR MY FEET,

OR I WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO BE ON THE STREET

SLEEP IS DENIED ME NIGHT AFTER NIGHT

BUT EVERY MORNING I FIND I’M ALRIGHT

MY MEMORY IS FAILING, MY HEADS IN A SPIN

BUT I’M AWFULLY WELL FOR THE SHAPE THAT I’M IN

THE MORAL IS THIS AS MY TALE I UNFOLD –

THAT FOR YOU AND ME WHO ARE GROWING OLD

IT’S BETTER TO SAY "I’M FINE" WITH A GRIN

THAN TO LET OTHERS KNOW THE SHAPE WE ARE IN

HOW DO I KNOW THAT MY YOUTH IS ALL SPENT

WELL, MY "GET UP AND GO" HAS GOT UP AND WENT

BUT I REALLY DON’T MIND WHEN I THINK WITH A GRIN

OF ALL THE GRAND PLACES MY "GET UP" HAS BEEN

OLD AGE IS GOLDEN I’VE HEARD IT SAID

BUT SOMETIMES I WONDER AS I GET INTO BED

WITH MY EARS IN THE DRAWER, MY TEETHIN A CUP,

AND MY EYESS ON THE TABLE UNTIL I WAKE UP

ERE SLEEP OVERTAKES ME. I SAY TO MYSELF

"IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE I COULD LAY ON THE SHELF?"

WHEN I WAS YOUNG MY SLIPPERS WERE RED

I COULD KICK MY HEELS OVER MY HEAD

WHEN I WAS OLDER MY SLIPPERS WERE BLUE,

BUT STILL I COULD DANCE THE WHOLE NIGHT THROUGH.

NOW I AMOLD MY SLIPPERS ARE BLACK

I WALK TO THE STOREM AND PUFF MY WAY BACK

I GET UP EACH MORNING AND DUST OFF MY WITS

AND PICK UP THE PAPER AND RED THE "OBITS"

IF MY NAME IS STILL MISSING I KNOW I’M NOT DEAD

SO I HAVE AGOOD BREAKFAST AND GO BACK TO BED

Anonymous