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  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry

Poetry

Source: Adults

Author: matthew newman

Title: It comes to us all.

We all sat in our old folks home
moaning as only the geriatric can do.
With tales of creaking, worn out joints
and of problems getting to the loo.

But old age brings a few small perks
like speaking before you think.
You can insult almost anyone
and claim your brains on the blink.

We listened to an eighty year old
a good old stick called Miles.
He literally kept us on the edge of our seats
with stories of his inflamed piles.

Old George is always up for a laugh
he'll do anything for a shilling.
In his mind he has sex ten times a night
shame his todger's no longer willing.

Madge is deaf and seventy four
and always insists she's fine.
But no matter what you say to her
she answers with the time.

I myself am ninety nine
and live with not one care.
I scratch my arse and pick my nose
and leave wet patches on my chair.

My time will be up soon enough
and I'll be ashes in an urn.
And the song I want played at the crematorium
will be " Burn baby burn."

So think ahead you young out there
and live today like it's your last.
'Cause I'm sure yesterday I was twenty one
bugger me doesn't time go fast?



Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry
 

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