Still Divine

Jan Millward takes another little look at the ageing process with her great sense of humour!

Still divine

When I was young I didn’t care,
about the colour of my hair.
It used to hang in golden curls,
it’s funny how our lives unfurl.

I didn’t have to stop and think,
how much I’d pee with every drink.
I could race to catch a bus,
now standing up is such a fuss.

It doesn’t seem so long ago
that I could pick boys from a row.
Now they help me cross the street,
as I can’t seem to move my feet.

I used to wear smart underwear,
I’d dress in style and toss my hair,
I’d paint my nails and gloss my lips
before I had to get new hips.

But I don’t feel that I am old
I look quite well, or so I’m told.
My knees though sadly click and groan,
I know however I’m not alone.

There really are a lot of us,
so I don’t like to make a fuss.
I still can see to do my face,
I pluck my chin, it’s no disgrace.

‘Though I don’t think it very fair
but I don’t want young kids to stare.
I have to watch with every sneeze,
my pelvic floor I have to squeeze.

My boobs are heading for the floor,
strapping them in is such a bore.
My shoes no longer have a heel,
I take ten tablets with my meal.

But there is no pressure to conform,
elastic waists are now the norm.
Now I no longer have to work,
it’s one of the few old age perks.

I can pretend that I’m too tired
to stay out late, it’s not required.
No one expects you to remember
to send your cards out in December.

Look for the glass half full of wine,
and toast your luck, you’re still divine!

Jan Millward©