“ON GROWING OLD”
Walk slow with me, I have grown old’
What once was just a single step; Is somehow, now three-fold;
Talk slow with me, my memorys’ dim; My train of thought runs off the rails,
Sometimes changes on a whim. Don’t laugh at me, unless I too
Would understand what I said, or did That so amuses you.
I am not deaf, no need to shout; And…my intellect is still intact,
I can really differentiate What is fantasy, or fact.
Just let me be the one to know To where, and when it’s time to go,
And spend time left with those like me Drifting to Eternity.
And then, don’t look too hard And hope to see
Some semblance of that other me For she’ll be gone, and took with her
The vision you may much prefer. Mary L Smith © 2016