Formalities over,
visitor gone,
I am free to fart,
walk around in my droopy underpants,
scratch my itchy scrotum,
and cease acting as if I’m in a life assurance ad.
I didn’t ask for old age,
it turned up with food stains down its front,
things grasped or brushed falling to earth,
as I will, oh! but not any more
for the incinerator calls me
to my fiery fate
where released from a hiccoughing hiatus hernia
I no longer struggle to rise from a sofa.
Be still my soul though no one’s on your side
Bear patiently the weight of the unknown
Leave those behind to order and provide
To ponder life and the turn to stone.
