Alarm buzzes without warning
There must be some mistake,
I hit the snooze button
It’s too soon to be daybreak.

Yes, morning has broken
So I raise my weary head.
Mumble a hasty prayer
Before I stumble out of bed.

Wrapped in a toweling robe
On achy legs I shuffle along ,
Feet snug in furry slippers
Quietly humming a Sinatra song.

I look into the mirror
And Medusa stares right back,
Seven years bad luck
If my visage makes the mirror crack.

But hang on, what is that I see?
The sight fills me with despair
How could this be?
I’ve found another new grey hair.

I stretch and I yawn
As I step into the shower.
Pelting steamy jets
My lethargy to devour.

With images of bingo and bowling
I stumble to the kitchen,
Herbal tea and honey
Has become my dose of liquid ambition.

A row of bottles proudly displayed
On a shelf above the kitchen sink,
Holds a medley of concoctions
That daily I must drink.

First I need to find my glasses
And just in case you wonder,
Taking the wrong dosage
Could prove a fatal blunder.

For example if in error
The pink one I was to take,
In place of two yellow
It would cause my hands to shake.

Every morning like clockwork
A tiny white one I must pop.
That one is sort of vital
If I don’t want my heart to stop.

Then there’s the shiny red one
That goes directly to my brain.
I call that one the smart pill
It fools me into thinking there’s no pain.

The blue one is my favorite
I use this one quite a lot,
It makes me feel happy
Even when I’m not.

There has been some improvement
And I swear it’s not a joke.
My forgetting is getting better,
While the rest of me gets more broke.

At times I walk into a room
And I have to wrack my brain,
I can’t remember why I’m there,
All my pondering’s in vain.

Or the times I put something away
In a place as safe as can be.
It just so happens the one person
It’s safest from turns out to be me.

Perchance I meet someone on the street
And we have a delightful chat
As the person walks away
I ask myself, “Who was that?”

Scary to think that at only forty two
I crave a life that’s as peaceful as can be,
Plagued by thoughts of retirement
To a little cottage by the sea.

I don’t remember how it came to be
That my youth is now all spent.
Fast heading toward my golden years
I’ve not much to regret, I must relent.

Teeth in a glass on the bedside table
Will soon become a bedtime ritual,
In a nightstand drawer my ears safely stowed,
And eyes beside me on the pedestal.

My Chanel No 5 traded in for VapoRub,
I now buy the paper only to read the obits,
And at times I have to pause a while
So I can gather my scatty wits.

Yes, it’s true I’m getting older
To that much I’m now resigned;
I think the thing I’ll miss the most
Will be the loss of my already feeble mind.

So what if I can’t remember
If I’m here when I should be there?
Or if I huff and puff for breath
Every time I run up the stair.

If you ask me how I’m doing
I will smile without chagrin
When I say I’ve never been better
Recalling all the places these old bones have been.