Getting Old: Blessings and Bothers

The mind’s not as sharp in those later years - a poem.

Reliably smart, these days so senior -
My mind just struggles, swearing more.
My treasured memory’s now inferior,
Lovely pickin’s, change in store.

A purpose leaked, most every instance,
Escapes my brain and seeks relief.
The finish line off in the distance
Envelops strain while leaving grief.

I must rely on dismal penance,
Selfish wounds do buy some time.
Folks like me fulfill a presence,
Chirping squirrels advance their climb.

My challenged spirit facing cold,
Such room to handle - cap the bleed.
Forgetting tasks, bewildered, old,
So filled with horror, justly heed.