I get up each morning
I creak and I moan
I put in my ears
Before answering the phone
My eyes yes have glasses
Or I could not see
My teeth in a cup
Yes waiting for me
More hairs in the sink
Than on top of my head
And longer, yes longer
I am staying in bed
Each day getting older
Much less is of me
Oh what, yes oh what
Is happening to me
They say golden years
Is what you are in
If much more falls off of me
I am afraid when I’m in
Yes when I’m in my casket
Not much will be found
No not much will be left
To put into the ground
By Ronald Gainsford
© 2002 Ronald Gainsford
BY RGAI
