Phyllis McKenna

Don’ t call me old

Because I’m at that age

When you hear the groans of

Of tired old bones

And words look blurred

On the written page

Don’t say I’m ancient

Or I’m over the hill

As my muscles creak

I’m slow to speak

And I reach for that evening pill

Don’t say I’m past it

As I look ahead

As the years fly so fast

And days and nights

Don’t seem to last

My get up and go

Hasn’t got up and gone

Walkers and wheelchairs

Are frowned upon

I’ll still keep travelling

From place to place

Still take part

In that 5k race

Lunges and press ups

No problem for me

|I’ll still be swimming at 93!

Frothy white waves lap at my feet

Tickling, caressing my naked toes

The tides coming in, I really must go

But I lie back on the sand and my mind goes

Back to the times when we holidayed together

Laughing, in love, whatever the weather

You raise my hand to your waiting lips

Softly kiss and hold me tight

Whisper sexily in my ear

Then we would steal into the night

The silvery rays of the crescent moon

Envelope me in cold sympathy

The twinkling stars, Like scattered tears

You left me far too soon

I walk along the sand alone

Pretend you’re there beside me

I talk to you as if you were

But only in my dreams I see.

Feet scrunching on discarded leaves

Conkers falling from dying trees

Misty mornings, moonlit nights

Skulls, skeletons, ghostly frights

Goblins, vampires, tales of woe

Well-banked fires all aglow

Candy apples, cinnamon pies

Fireworks flash in darkened skies

Dressing up in costumes gory

Listening to that horror story

Ducking for apples in a water filled tub

Imbibing bloody drinks in a nearby pub

Ruddy faces, sparklers flaring

Some folks become a little daring

Walk closer their potatoes cooking

Grab a bite when no one’s looking

Enjoy the night, enjoy the craic

Soon our days will be pitch black

Snow, slush , rain and ice

But Santa’s coming, that’ll be nice!