BIGRED Z
03-15-2011, 06:13 AM
How do I know when my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all, I’m able to grin,
When I think of where my get up has been.
Old age is golden so I’ve heard said,
But sometimes I wonder when I get into bed
With my ear in the drawer and teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
As sleep dims my eye, I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But I’m happy to say as I close the door,
My friends are the same, perhaps even more.
When I was young my slippers were red.
I could kick my heels up over my head.
When I grew older, my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through.
Now I am old and my slippers are black.
I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth is all spent,
Is that my get up and go has got up and went.
But I dont really mind, when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my get up has been.
And since I’ve retired from life’s competition,
My shedules are all scheduled (with complete repetition).
I get up every morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the o’bits.
If I see my name missing, I know I’m not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Author Unknown
I read your thread on wanting your youth back, but age is relative! Your not this bad yet!
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all, I’m able to grin,
When I think of where my get up has been.
Old age is golden so I’ve heard said,
But sometimes I wonder when I get into bed
With my ear in the drawer and teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
As sleep dims my eye, I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But I’m happy to say as I close the door,
My friends are the same, perhaps even more.
When I was young my slippers were red.
I could kick my heels up over my head.
When I grew older, my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through.
Now I am old and my slippers are black.
I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth is all spent,
Is that my get up and go has got up and went.
But I dont really mind, when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my get up has been.
And since I’ve retired from life’s competition,
My shedules are all scheduled (with complete repetition).
I get up every morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the o’bits.
If I see my name missing, I know I’m not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Author Unknown
I read your thread on wanting your youth back, but age is relative! Your not this bad yet!