Old age is golden so I’ve heard said, but sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed..
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup, my eyes on the table until I wake up.
As sleep dims my vision I say to myself: Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all I’m able to grin,
And think of the places my get up has been!