When did I decide to swap
my nights out for the telly?
When was it acceptable to carry such a belly?
When did I begin to crave my pjs and my slippers?
When did it become the time to purchase nasal clippers?
When did I … like ever … care about my constitution?
Now I’m eating prunes to help resolve a lack of movement.
When did I begin to tire so far before eleven?
When did peace and quiet turn into my idea of heaven?
When did I decide to tune my radio to Smooth?
And what’s with all that chart filled noise they try to pass as groove?
Hip-hop-rap-crap, garage, grunge, all sounds to drive me mad.
Oh when oh when, dear Lord above, did I turn into my dad?
When did the kids, that I was down with, get children of their own?
When did I start to talk to me whilst bumbling around my home?
When did all my body parts
begin to creak and moan?
When did simply standing up not pass without a groan?
New spectacles, old testicles,
the latter on decline.
Pills for this and sprays for that,
to keep me feeling fine.
Mirrors show a different me, to the image in my mind.
I can’t deny – nor can I hide – those bags beneath my eyes
My hair – or should I say what’s left of it – is slowly turning grey.
My eyes are dim, my skin less taut,
I’m pissing more each day.
If only I could turn back time, reset the youthful clock.
But would I change the life I’ve lived?
No … probably not.
So, here’s the thing.
Despite the fact I’m getting old
Despite these ageing signs
I’ll seize the day as best I can until it’s time to die.
For looks and age won’t mean a thing, when lying in that box.
So I’ll resolve to love my life, before the reaper knocks.
May I suggest you do the same?