My poems are reflections of everyday activities of us "old folks".

ODE TO THE AGED

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I never thought I would be old, though I knew it the fate of every soul.

Strange when you are young you think sixty is old and when you are sixty you think

Sixty is “gold”.

We sit in public places and look at the elderly sea only sometimes to find, shockingly, they are younger then we.

And school reunions are quite an awakening filled with old folks each wondering if they are there mistakenly.

There were small changes at first, brown spots appeared, misplacing a purse.

Days, months, years flew by, skin begin to thin, friends begin to die

Growing old is not all bad, if you are smart enough to accept it you’ll find reasons to be glad.

Those that fight it, with desire to remain young, only find sadness and miss out on a lot of fun.

When we are young and eager to impress, we’re too uptight with feelings to express.

Age brings the opportunity to reflect back on life with laughter, concern, wisdom and impunity.

A sense of humor is a must as we begin to falter and our children begin to fuss.

As I grow old I am eager to begin being the person that always grins.

Old age affords us the chance to do weird stuff, excused by an aged thrust.

We can crack jokes and act as we please only to be excused that we are “elderly”

Our grandkids will love us the more zany we act and our children definitely deserved payback.

The down side to the aging concern, as I see, is leaving loved ones with memories of the person we came to be.

Not a disciplinarian, not a person stressed but, someone who loved them and will be greatly missed.

Leaving the message that when your hair turns gray and your children have left, life is to be enjoyed and growing old can be THE BEST.

That Is Not What I Said!

Although I love my spouse and he is always dear, sometimes he tests my resolve because he cannot hear.

Don’t mind graying hair and extra pounds that come with age, but repeating myself and yelling makes me appear to rage.

The looks I get when I have to yell garners sympathy for a man with “a wife from Hell”.

Not to mention those embarrassing moments, when he repeats things that he “thinks” I have spoken.

One example, conveyed in a public place, drew looks, snickers and smiles on each and every face.

In assisting my husband filling out a questionnaire, I asked, “Are you taking any medication dear?”

To which he replied loud and clear, “What was that, am I related to any patients here?”

Despite the laugh that I spewed, I calmly stated, “That’s not what I said to you!”

It amazes me the stuff he thinks I converse, but for the humor, loss of hearing would be the worse.

But overlooking the inability to convey, our conversations prove to be very interesting each and every day.

Many a laugh we have had, analyzing the responses from dear old Dad.

The obvious solution would be a hearing aid and that’s a fact, but, heck, where’s the fun in that!

Beverly Hefley