The flower petals fall though we love them, the weeds grow though we hate them - that is just how it is. ** Dogen **

In my Golden Years, I am fine. How are you? There is nothing the matter with me, I'm just as healthy as can be, I have arthritis in both knees, And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze, My pulse is weak, my blood is thin, But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. All my teeth want to go out, My diet I hate to think about, I'm overweight and I can't get thin, But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. Can't sit for Bhajans (prayer) with folded feet, Embarrassed I watch from outside the street, Sleep is denied me night after night, But every morning I find I'm all right, My memory's failing, my head's in a spin, But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. Old age is golden - I've heard it said, But sometimes I wonder, as I go to bed, With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup, And my glasses on a shelf, until I get up, And when sleeps dims my eyes, I say to myself, Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf? I get up each morning and dust off my wits, Pick up the paper and read the obits. If my name is missing, I'm therefore not dead, I eat my breakfast and jump back in to bed. The moral of this as the tale unfolds, Is that for you and me, who are growing old, It is better to say, "I'm fine with a grin, Than to let people know the shape you are in. "These are my Growing Golden Years" ******************************************* Back Home ............. Sign Guest Book *******************************************