THERE is really nothing the matter with me. I am as healthy as can be. I have arthritis in both my knees and when I talk it s with a bit of a wheeze. My pulse is weak and my blood is thin, but I m awfully well for the state I m in. Arch supports prop up m

THERE is really nothing the matter with me. I am as healthy as can be. I have arthritis in both my knees and when I talk it's with a bit of a wheeze.

My pulse is weak and my blood is thin, but I'm awfully well for the state I'm in.

Arch supports prop up my feet, or I wouldn't be able to walk down the street.

Sleep is denied me night after night, yet every morning I find I'm alright.

My memory is failing and my head's in a spin, but I'm awfully well for the state I'm in.

The moral is this (as my tale unfolds) that for you and for me who are growing old, it is better to say 'I'm fine' with a grin than to let folks know the state we are in.

How do I know that my youth is spent, well my get and go just got up and went.

Old age is golden I've often heard said, but sometimes I wonder as I get into bed.

My hearing aid in a drawer and my teeth in a cup, my specs on the table until I wake up.

Sleeps overtakes me I say to myself - be there anything else I can lay on the shelf.

When I was young and my shoes were red, I could kick my heels right over my head.

When I was older my shoes were blue, but still I could dance the old whole night through.

Now I am old and my shoes are black and I walk to the shops and puff my way back. I get up in the morning and dust off my wits, I pick up the paper and read the obits.

If my name is not missing I know I'm not dead so have a good breakfast and go back to bed.

DORA LATHAM

Prickwillow Road

Ely