Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
I smell coffee brewing,
And the stench of Ben Gay,
And the cleaner they use,
The bad smells to allay.
I tighten the blanket
To cover both shoulders,
Find warmth for these old bones
And scold my controller.
"It is way too damn cold
in this nasty dust bowl."
As she smiles back at me
I can see her eye-roll.
I hope she'll find wisdom
In the back of her head.
But she may just find out
that she's partly brain dead.
I am grouchy and mean
And I feel like a louse,
As my thoughts and my words
Leave my noxious old mouth.
If she knew me when young,
Being healthy and strong,
She would judge me genteel.
We just might get along.
My body is failing,
I'm in mental decline,
My days they are numbered.
Th Grim Reaper's light shines.
Regrets in the hundreds.
Many wishes un'filled.
I hold good memories
Near a heart growing chilled.
My advice to the young,
Seek happiness and love.
Find the good in people.
Live a life you're proud of.
|
| Writing Prompt |
Please write a porm of any type that addresses growing old. |
|
