OK…so….John started this after reading something one of us wrote on twitter.  I am not sure what it was now; but it was funny….it was…really….I think.  Anyway, this poem reminds me of this picture I took being silly at a 1920’s party.  This is for everyone who gets tired of seeing me post vanity pics of myself 🙂

Written by John Bentz and HastyWords

the creaks and groans of my tired bones

seem louder to me every day.

what happened to the time

I could rise and shine

without a shower, coffee, or gray?

 

the wrinkles seem to be playing a game

racing across every surface as if a race

cracks grow deeper upon my face

and I am not sure

but they might just outrun their allotted pace

 

since when did the stairs get so steep?!

and my eyes not see so clearly?!

every step I take is a gamble

these days…

don’t you dare think of me elderly!

 

I got a few looks yesterday, I thought yay

but then I had realized a bit too late

my hair hasn’t been colored in days

they were probably calculating my age

maybe trying to see where on the OLD scale I rate

 

*SIGH* It won’t be long now I fear;

*GROAN* the thought of that day brings a chill.

*SHRUG* When I drop my pants down

*UGH* And I meet with a frown

*MOAN* No further chance of a thrill.

 

My boobs were perky once, nice round mounds

With curvaceous cleavage girls would die for

But now… they are more like slopes, landslides

With a dry and wrinkled crack on some desert terrain

Sigh, groan, shrug, UGH, and moan some more

 

And here we go we hit the ground.

We’ve got a few years to go!

My hips stayed put

Just some dirt on my foot,

“Old?” Ha! Just goes to show!