Poetry | Life

Old Age Is Not For Sissies.

As a youngster, I didn’t understand dad’s saying; now I do.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay (cropped)

my arms shrunk,
not long enough.
Blurring words,
a hazy page maze.

Glasses, where art thou?
Everywhere and nowhere,
hiding in my pockets, not!
Glasses absent without leave.
Laddie, where are my glasses?
Gramps, on your forehead
Oh dear, a patience old age test.

A new day, a new dawn. Yikes!
Alive cause the aches tell me so.
Did you take your tablets, Gramps?
I did, didn’t I? Now I am not sure.
Can I take them again, or rather not?

Grampa, wanna play some ball?
Words swirling in a silent fog.
Sorry laddie, whaddya say?
Play ball, Gramps? “Doll, eh?”
Why should I have a doll?
Ball, Gramps… b.a.l.l, Ball!
I’m deaf ~ish lad, not stupid!