I’m over the hill and picking up speed.
The stairs are proving a trial.
It takes two attempts to rise from a chair.
When I go to the loo I’m there for a while.

My vision and hearing are on the way out.
My GP makes house calls to see me.
My calendar is full of hospital appointments.
Oh no, not again. I’m desperate for a wee.

What’s left of my hair is silver-grey.
There’s some sprouting from my ears.
I need someone to cut my toe nails.
I haven’t reached them for years.

I know all the day-time TV programmes.
From This Morning to Antiques Road-trip.
I have bad arthritis in my right knee.
There’s a click starting up in my hip.

I’ve had a walking stick a while.
And I’ve recently ordered a Zimmer.
As well as a pull-a-long shopping bag.
My outlook now is very much dimmer.

Still, I have my lovely memories.
Of places I’ve been and people I’ve met.
Things I’ve done just for the laughs,
And, the three grand I won on a bet.

I mustn’t complain really I suppose.
There is always someone worse off.
Someone like poor old Jenny.
For a year she’s had whooping cough.

It gets me down though I must admit,
Remembering what I used to be able to do.
I was pain free and mobile then.
Now, I’m forever on the loo.