OK…so….John started this after reading something one of us wrote on twitter. I am not sure what it was now; but it was funny….it was…really….I think. Anyway, this poem reminds me of this picture I took being silly at a 1920’s party. This is for everyone who gets tired of seeing me post vanity pics of myself 🙂
Written by John Bentz and HastyWords
the creaks and groans of my tired bones
seem louder to me every day.
what happened to the time
I could rise and shine
without a shower, coffee, or gray?
the wrinkles seem to be playing a game
racing across every surface as if a race
cracks grow deeper upon my face
and I am not sure
but they might just outrun their allotted pace
since when did the stairs get so steep?!
and my eyes not see so clearly?!
every step I take is a gamble
don’t you dare think of me elderly!
I got a few looks yesterday, I thought yay
but then I had realized a bit too late
my hair hasn’t been colored in days
they were probably calculating my age
maybe trying to see where on the OLD scale I rate
*SIGH* It won’t be long now I fear;
*GROAN* the thought of that day brings a chill.
*SHRUG* When I drop my pants down
*UGH* And I meet with a frown
*MOAN* No further chance of a thrill.
My boobs were perky once, nice round mounds
With curvaceous cleavage girls would die for
But now… they are more like slopes, landslides
With a dry and wrinkled crack on some desert terrain
Sigh, groan, shrug, UGH, and moan some more
And here we go we hit the ground.
We’ve got a few years to go!
My hips stayed put
Just some dirt on my foot,
“Old?” Ha! Just goes to show!