Joy L Identity

Here is a humorous short poem to remind us of ageing!

 

An ‘old’ lady?
My birth-paper states that I’m eighty-three!
Eighty-three? That can’t be ME…
I don’t smell of moth-balls,
or click my teeth,
don’t have arthritis,
or bunioned feet.
A waft of perfume?
Chanel No.5…
I’m eager and curious,
And glad I’m alive:
When music rings out
I’m there with a jive!
BUT, first thing in the morning,
do I spring out of bed?
No, I regrettably admit, I sidle instead.
And how long takes my ‘toilette’?
I, umm…vaguely mumble…
“It takes me awhile
for me to assumble!”