Ageing disgracefully with pearly whites

I can’t believe how old I am, How I loathe this old age bit. But my intention’s to have a lot of fun,

Although no longer young and fit.

With aching joints and rattling teeth, Eyesight and hearing failing, The urgency to find a loo, Alas, life’s not plain sailing. I will grow old disgracefully, It is so boring to be good, Perhaps embarrass all around me,

But I will try not to be rude. Some may think that

I am loopy,

Although I know that I am not, I will use manipulation, To make the most of what I’ve got.

My orders, they must be obeyed,

My opinions all respected, At my age I am always right, With memories carefully selected.

If I am taken to the theatre, Or to a concert hall,

I will applaud in the wrong places,

And really have a ball. What I really love is gossiping, But I may not take much care, To ensure my unsuspecting victim,

Isn’t poised on the next chair. My age has made me clumsy,

Alas at meals I make a mess, Transferring soup from plate to mouth,

Can be a problem — I confess. I may wear outrageous clothing,

And will favour shocking pink, My large, eccentric garments,

Might really make folk think. I’d like to get some new false teeth,

All gleaming white and shining, The sort that are unmistakable,

And show that I’m still smiling. Perhaps I’ll need some Fixodent,

To glue them into place,

I’d really hate those dentures,

To go flying from my face. I really cannot wait to get A geriatric scooter,

So I can speed along the pavements,

With my finger on the hooter. I hope to drive inside the shops,

Trying not to fell displays, But if I do, I will apologise, Then continue on my way. Should my family in their wisdom,

Dare to put me in a home, Let me make this clear — right now,

I will reserve the right to roam.

After lunch I’ll get myself dressed up,

Then set off for a walk,

To seek out unsuspecting strangers,

Who may listen to me talk. And when at last my time is up, I want no one to shed tears, But cheerful mourners in bright clothing,

To celebrate my happy years. I also request a rocket,

To get launched into the sky, So that all are gazing heavenwards,

As my friends wave me goodbye.

Barbie Miller, grantown on spey, Moray.