THIS POEM PRETTY WELL COVERS THE MARCH OF TIME -- AS MY FRIEND, R.R. MITCHELL PHRASED IT -- AS WE AGE,
"WE ARE CAMPING NEARER TO THE RIVER."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I cannot see
I cannot pee
I cannot chew
I cannot screw
Oh my god what can I do?
My memory shrinks
My hearing stinks
No sense of smell
I look like hell
My mood is bad can you tell?
My body is drooping
Have trouble pooping
The golden years
Have come at last
The golden years can kiss my a*s!
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