We have seen eighty-five new summer
spring, autumn, winter.
It could be even more
we lost count of the exact figure.
Suddenly, by liars we are told
we are no longer young, we’re old!
We are unable to speak for ourselves
is that the reason you left us
in one silly corner of the home?
Guests come and go
hear their babble, footsteps
not allowed to participate
with life anymore.
And we get know, there are poorer cousins
woebegone like us,
waiting for their days in morbid old homes?
You are expecting us to die? Why!
We are fragile, not that bold
we depend on you, breathe hazy
sounds of phlegm rest in our chests
forks and spoons we are unable to hold
overgrown bones, we may not walk straight
be as civil and presentable, yet the flame inside
burning just the same.
We had been your child’s best friends
your pets love us for sure
our parents, don’t you remember them
had their say in every matter of the game?
We’d say, ‘older people are darlings of all homes
that make a worked up den a garden’
don’t you recall those bed time stories we shared then?
We won’t lie
however aged we may be
will never be old enough to die,
as long as we’re breathing the same air
don’t push us farther and farther
the blokes are alive, your father and mother
a song we sing as passing birds
include us ahoy
life lies in us seasoned with joy
it can also ease your stressful world.