GROWING OLD

They tell me that I'm growing old. But I cant believe it's so.

I know I'm growing wrinkled,

But that started years ago.

My steps are getting slower. But that doesn't mean I'm old. You cant walk fast in winter, When your feet, are Oh so cold.

When I sit around in summer, While it's sultry, and I fret. They say I'm growing old.

So I just sit there and sweat.

When I go to see my neighbors.

I take my walking stick.

I know i'd never make it,

If that catch got in my hip.

My eyes are growing dim.

But my glasses help with that, I also wear my hearing aid. And listen to them chat.

I have to wear my denture's.

But that doesn't mean I'm old.

As I lost my natural teeth.

So many, many, years ago.

My hair is turning grey.

But loving care, takes care of that. The only thing, that bothers me.

Is because I'm getting fat,

But now why should I worry.

When every thing's been told.

I really think the folks are right. I know I'm growing old.

By Thelma Ripper Smith.