A Seniors Poem
At the chemists today, the lad was a gent.
From my purchases, he knocked off ten per cent.
I asked for the reason for the lesser amount;
And he said - "Because of the Seniors discount!"
I went to McDonald's for a Burger and Fries;
And once again, I got quite a surprise.
The girl poured some coffee which she handed to me;
She said, "For you sir, as a Senior - the coffee is free."
The point is, I'm not Old! - I'm merely Mature!
But some things are changing; just how, I'm not sure.
The print on the pages, seems to get smaller each day;
And people speak softer - can't hear what they say.
My teeth are my own (I still have the receipt!);
And I can still recognise most of the people I meet.
Oh, I've slowed down a bit - not a lot, I am sure.
You see - I'm not Old, I'm merely Mature.
The colour in my hair has been bleached by the sun.
You should see all the damage that chlorine has done!
It appears that washing my hair has turned it all white;
But don't say I'm going bald! - it doesn't sound right.
My friends all get older, much faster than me.
They seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.
I've got "character lines," not wrinkles, for sure.
But don't call me Old! - just call me Mature!
The steps in the houses they're building today
Are all so high, they take your breath away.
The streets are much steeper than ten years ago.
That certainly explains why my walking is slow.
But I'm keeping up, on what's hip and what's new.
I reckon I can still dance a mean boogaloo.
I'm still in the running, in this I'm secure,
But don't call me Old! - I'm merely Mature!
All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt