Aging

Woke up sore from sleepin’ still,
Now stretchin’ feels like climbin’ a hill.
My back makes sounds like gravel in jars,
And I grunt louder than most used cars.
Used to rope cattle at breakneck speed,
Now I need three breaks just to weed.
The mirror says I’m “seasoned and wise,”
But my joints scream lies and compromise.
Ma’s got glasses stacked on her head,
Says, “Can’t find ’em”–they’re there instead.
Pa wears socks with his boots by choice,
Claims “arch support” gives freedom a voice.
I take pills for things I can’t pronounce,
And nap mid-sentence with decent bounce.
The doc said, “Eat greens,” so I grew kale,
Now I’m constipated and sad on the trail.
Even the cows look younger now,
With Botox noses and moo-shaped brows.
But age brings wisdom, or so they say,
At least I know better than to outrun hay.

Alan Nafzger (editor@bohiney.com)

Last Updated on May 23, 2023 by Alan Nafzger