Growing Old

Growing old is such a pain;
And I mean that literally.
I've got pains in my back and neck;
And in my shoulder, and my knee.

It takes much longer to get ready now;
To go out into the public eye.
If at first I don't seem to succeed;
I am forced to continue to try.

Don't ask me what color my hair is;
For I really couldn't tell.
I owe it all to one little box;
I believe the name, is Lo'real.

I have some natural highlights;
They look golden in the sun.
It's actually the color, over the gray;
But, I'm not telling anyone.

I'm a little thicker through the waist;
My weight is a constant fight.
I can't wear short shorts anymore;
Thanks to my pal, old cellulite.

I'd like to spend more time at the gym;
But I can't, unfortunately.
I'm too busy making appointments;
For my physical therapy.

They say these are my golden years;
But, all my gold is in my mouth.
I don't believe a word they say;
I have a lot of reasons for my doubt.

But, one thing that I do have;
Is wisdom, and some smarts.
I only hope that I can keep;
All the rest of my pieces and parts!

© Betty Hawkins 2003
(All Rights Reserved)