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!”