What about this?

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!