If ever there is someone I make fun of on a regular basis, it is me! I rely on my sense of humour that I don’t offend myself and hopefully therefore do not offend anyone else.
Today I realised, I am an old woman.
So, I wrote a poem about it. As you do! Or rather as I do, on a regular basis. Write poems that is…
I’ve written it here for you, but also there’s a podcast if you want to hear me read it! There’s a bit of preamble on the podcast and then some post poetry commentary…
I am the old woman
I am the old woman who can't find her purse
in the depths of her bag then it gets worse
I fumble my cards out, it’s really a curse
Smiles from the server and that feels worse
I can't see to pay if I don’t have my glasses
minutes as hours as time it then passes
And If I don't have them, those pain in the arses
just stab at the keypad before more time passes
Still worse to come, when it comes to my keys
Fidget and fumble my fingers they tease
In triumph I grab them it seems then with ease
Then they fall to the ground, if you then please
The medics gave orders, don’t bend to the ground
How to get at those keys, there's no-one to be found
As I try to bend over with belly so round
My body emits a strange grumbling sound
But, I have to bend over there's no other way
If I don't get the keys, I'll be there all day
It may not be the first time, not even today
Maybe the third or the fourth what can I say?
I am an old lady, as it’s widely known
Start to wear out as older we’ve grown
We lose things, we drop things, we mutter and moan
We say things that make all our family groan
But give us our due for the time we have had
From birth through the years as a girl or a lad
Poking fun at ourselves as these verses we’ve had
If we can still laugh then life’s not so bad!
My journey with Parkinsons 