Aging: A Silly Poem

The Anti-Love Affair with Aging

Your boobs start to sag,
Oh My Gosh, it's a beard.
The mirror is an enemy,
The body's gone weird.

The children are busy,
Our job is mostly done.
They may still need us but,
We're dorks; we're not fun.

The oldies are gone.
It's a jumble of emotions.
We've cleaned out the room.
It's clear of potions.

So, I start a new path,
One that's all about me.
I wipe a few tears and ask,
Who shall I be?

Should I wonder about
Every decision I've made?
Is it normal to ask,
What price have I paid?

In the blink of an eye
I look back through the haze.
What we considered normal
Was only a phase.

I spring from the bed,
Greet the husband and the day.
I have a moment where I say,
"Lookout world, I'm on my way."

The roots may be gray
The knees may be creaking.
I'm still drawing breath.
I'm still speaking.