Waiting in a doctor’s office for a yearly examination can give rise to poetic prowess! Here’s a poem I wrote today while waiting:
Ode to Growing Old
by Linnell Chang
I’m growing so old from my head to my toes,
No part is immune, that’s just how life goes.
I look in the mirror and see same old me,
Though most of my body’s changed ‘bove the knee.
A sleek stylish haircut provides youthful flair,
But, Sharpie pens need to touch up white hair.
My face has no pimples of an eighteen-year-old,
but my age is revealed through wrinkles and folds.
The light of my soul shines bright through my eyes,
But my sight’s changed, fonts need to resize.
A double chin makes a great safety hold,
For keeping those scarves under control.
My upper arms have a life of their own,
Reps of tricep curls . . . I wish I had known.
The darts on my dress are lower than before,
’Cause “the girls” on my chest are nearer the floor.
The abdominal work at the gym that I go,
Does not make a difference to the belly I show.
Smooth shapely thighs are a thing of my past,
Discover a cure for cellulite – fast!
Can’t turn back the clock, even if I chose,
That’s my growing-old story, so I’ll close.
Despite moaning and groaning, I’ve come to learn,
That growing old is a gift, something one earns.
By living and loving, without any restraint,
I’m so glad I’m alive and that’s no complaint!