Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts

Tuesday

Dress Up or 'Fess Up – Some Lines to Yield a Youth Concealed



Sometimes I feel, or I suppose,
A little girl in grown-up clothes.
Not yet senescent, but of age,
I’ve stayed my soul at fresher stage.

If tailored, tasteful togs I wear,
I almost feel put-on for flair.
I’m happier in sneaks and jeans,
Such as I sported in my teens.

My kids may groan. Their cohorts jeer,
But I refuse to overhear.
I’ll never be the worse for wear,
If I can dress without a care.
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson


Image:
Adapted from public domain image

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Hurting Hinges



My hinges hurt. It must be told.
From head to toe, they stop me cold.
I ran a race,
Might need a brace.
It can’t be that I’m growing old.



Ouch! Ankles, knees, and hips cry out.
If it didn’t take too much, I’d pout.
My back, my hip –
I’ve lost my grip.
Still, battle scars like this add clout.

I’m toast. I’m tired. Overdone.
Like someone shot me with a gun.
I’m fully cooked,
But I’ve been hooked.
When can we do another run?
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson


Image:
Theme art – adapted from public domain image
Still from Holiday, 1938

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Thursday

Everyday Earful



Is there an echo someplace here?
Perhaps she needs to disappear.
O’er desk, she’s bowed.
But still, he’s loud.
She cannot hear from either ear.


She fights the danger to go deaf.
He telegraphs in treble clef –
With stories old
And lines retold.
Where can she hire a hockey ref?

She slips in earbuds left and right.
He’s out of sound and out of sight.
The wire’s unplugged,
But still she’ll shrug
At his attention appetite.
c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson


Image:
Theme art – adapted from public domain image
Still from The Stranger, 1946

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