A Taste of Old Age

I’m old and gray, and shrivelled like a prune.

My hearing is gone and I’m no longer in tune.

My joints are rusted and need lubrication,

but can’t get quick enough to the service station.

My colon has become a polyp factory,

and every year there’s the dreaded colonoscopy.

My prostate is enlarged and plays havoc with me;

I can’t even turn a tap without the urge to pee.

The glass of wine I enjoyed with my meals

was taken away by the medic on wheels.

Indigestion and heartburn come regularly,

in the middle of the night, especially.

I gave up my health, it seems to me,

to retire in comfort, with good company.

But who needs wealth at eighty-three,

when I can’t even stand straight to pee!