It came as an upsetting surprise.
I’m now old like those old folks.
I’ve recently begun to shuffle.
Please, Doctor, tell me this a hoax.

I’m rather unsteady on ladders.
Can’t pick a penny from the floor.
Running is a definite no-no.
No mowing the grass anymore.

I have a rest halfway up the stairs.
I gird my loins to put my socks on.
I’ve started forgetting things.
Just like Alex, or is it John?

I start thinking of bed at 9 O’clock.
I get my prescription delivered now.
I’m arguing with people on the TV.
I don’t know who they are anyhow.

I prick up my ears at funeral insurance adverts.
If I ever go out I’m home by half seven.
I’m up for the toilet three times a night.
Oakhouse foods are my seventh heaven.

It comes to us all I suppose.
But that doesn’t prevent the shock.
I’ve gone instantly from agile to old.
Now, can you help me put on this damn sock?