Many people my age are in terrible shape. If you wonder about me, I must admit that I can no longer run the hundred in 10 seconds, or find the slot in the screw when trying to repair something in bad light. But I still enjoy fine restaurants, drink rather too much fine wine, still enjoy driving long distances across Northern Italy and southern France, and we still maintain our lives in two countries an ocean apart.
But getting older is on my mind constantly, I admit, and here is a poem I wrote recently, which I include in the hope that it might amuse you. (A note about the poem: its subject is not necessarily me. Make of it what you will.)
COMING TO TERMS
Eyesight less sharp, you admit
Yes, a bit
Hearing somewhat dim
But I'm still slim
And a molar has cracked in two
Eyes, ears teeth
Could be signaling worse underneath
I doubt it
And the ache in your leg this morning
I'll walk it off in an hour
Ogling pinups still give you a tickle?
Or has all that slowed to a trickle?
What, no answer?
Your gym regime
Seems lacking in steam
Guess you fear sprains and such
If I try for too much
Computer upgrades cause you dismay?
Damn thing changes every day
And the IPhone's not for you?
Does everything newfangled get on your nerves?
Didn't used to, if memory serves
As a boy the years seemed vast
You wanted time to hurry past
Life held promise that never would fade
More like an old coat today
Wouldn't you say?
Well used, frayed
Much loving advice
Loving and concise
Frosts me like ice
Stand close, don't dribble on the floor
Stuff like that and more
Be sure to grip the bannister tight
Last time down you gave us a fright
Don't slip in the tub, if you fall
That might be all
As if I'm a race car going too fast
And the next bend will be my last
Wife, kids no longer see
The important me
That used to be
And still is