I'm told age is just a number,
as I inch toward that final slumber.
Ninety's the new sixty, you see -
tell that to my arthritic knee.
I'm young at heart, I'll admit,
though it's hard to get up when I sit.
Still, I'd rather count blessings than years,
and smile a young smile with my tears.
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| Writing Prompt |
write a 2 line 4 stanza poem about aging. The end of each two lines must rhyme. |
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Age poem
Contest Winner
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Author Notes
This picture is of my Dad, Stanley, who turned 90 in February. It was taken at one of his many birthday celebrations.
He's an amazing man, I'm blessed to still have him in my life.
The poem is semi-biographical. My Dad is 90, but has arthritis in his wrist, not his knee...and never complains about it.
He does, however, count blessings and not years! He lives independently and still drives (we're working on that).
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