Growing old’s a bummer, that’s for sure.
It’s clear each time I give my bod’ a tour.
The hair atop my dome is history,
Where it’s all gone is quite the mystery.
My ears are there, but they don’t work so well,
What most folks say of late I cannot tell.
My eyeballs’ vision’s slowly growing faint,
The knees are well deserving of complaint.
I can’t believe the plethora of pills
My doc’s prescribed for half a dozen ills.
I could fill up a dozen pages more
Of tales of woe, but I’ll no longer bore
You with the aches you’ll feel when you grow old.
The good part is: amongst the dross there’s gold.
We really do grow wiser as we age,
There’re some might even say that we are sage.
And then there is the greatest gift of all...
For those with luck, a wonderful windfall:
A partner every bit as wise as we
Who promises, "The best is yet to be."