Sunday, December 4, 2011


Editor's note: "Some folks worry so much about getting old that they promote the process by trying to hold it back," Dad wrote as the introduction to this poem.

Some people fret and worry,
As the years go rushing on,
Missing joys of the present,
While lamenting what is gone.

This fact of life is certain,
Very sad, but true,
You can't stay young forever,
No matter what you do.

When this becomes apparent,
And the wrinkles start to show,
Some measures can be taken
That will minimize the blow.

Perhaps it won't be noticed,
If only you will stay
In dark and shady places,
And avoid the light of day.

When your hair starts getting thinner,
And your jowls begin to sag,
You might conceal your features
In a supermarket bag!

So you won't be reminded
That the bloom of youth is gone,
When you look into a mirror,
Never have your glasses on!

But better yet, old timer,
Be contented with your lot;
Think the least of what you're losing,
And the most of what you've got!

Hominy Grits (1986)

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