The thought of getting older doesn’t fill me with much dread
Just so long as no one shouts at me or pats me on the head.
I’ll play my music loudly and wear the clothes I choose,
And my feet will be rewarded with a pair of comfy shoes.
I might swap my faithful Volvo for the trendiest of cars
With an ipod docking station that I think belongs on Mars.
I’d like my seven grandchildren to think that I am fun,
They’re growing fast, I must keep up, or else I’ll be the one
Who struggles with technology, can't send a simple text,
And listens to their racket music saying, ‘Lord, whatever next?’
In my youth I went to concerts, screaming loudly at The Who,
So I’ll buy my grandsons tickets to see Blink 182.
I’ll have my faithful lap dog top and a Kindle for my books,
And a tablet I won’t swallow or I’ll get some funny looks.
It’s challenging, this growing old, I need to keep ahead,
Because we all know, don’t we? You’re an awfully long time dead. 