An Old Poet's Lament

An Old Poet's Lament

My stomach isn’t working right.
Bubbles, gurgles, twinges and sighs
Kept me up for half the night.

I’ve got hives too, quite a sight—
Neck, belly, all over my thighs.
My skin just isn’t working right.

Aching and stiffness are my plight;
Take my meds, don’t eat those fries.
They kept me up for half the night.

Silvering hair could be a delight
If I were searching for a disguise.
(It’s clear my thoughts aren’t working right.)

Crinkly skin is another blight.
Wondering what else will arise
To keep me up for half the night.

Yes, growing older can be a fright—
At the end, will there be a prize?
Meanwhile I’ll sit here and write
While I’m up for half the night.

Author: Cynthia Bernard

Photo: Haley Lawrence on Unsplash