A poem I wrote about the experience of getting older –
Getting Older Poem
Like a spray of hot pebbles – little stings that you feel but shrug off.
Slowly blisters form: fragile skin over tears.
Nodding off during the news,
Getting no questions when I ask for a senior’s discount,
Noticing I think anyone under 50 is young,
Going to retirement parties,
Learning I’m two inches shorter,
Noticing I can’t run up stairs anymore,
Wobbling if I walk too far,
Hearing that child call me an old lady,
Socializing at funerals,
Listening for ages in death announcements
Fretting because I haven’t updated my will,
Wondering who that I love will ‘go’
before I die.
Joan Vinall-Cox 2012