Mr Bump and I decided to write poems about ageing. Here’s Mr Bump’s poem about hair in all the wrong places, and here’s my effort below:
Ageing Sucks, by Stevie Turner
My eyes are not what they were
Back when I was young.
It’s hard to thread a needle,
Ageing ain’t no fun.
Today I lost another tooth.
And I’ve got a cough,
I wish someone could cure old age
Before anything else drops off.
My knees creak
My waterworks leak
And my back is as stiff as can be,
There’s corns and bunions on my feet
And nobody’s older than me.
I can’t seem to hear too much
I try with all my might
But you should have seen his face
When we went to bed last night.
He said something to me
The gist of it I’d got
To me it sounded something like
“Have you emptied the bins, or not?”
I had to ask him once again
Just to confirm it in my foggy old brain
I looked at him
Smiled a lot
And mouthed one word, and that word was
His eyes lit up, he gave me a kiss
But how wrong his words I’d got
For what he’d actually asked me was…
“Shall we go to sleep then, or what?”
Too late I realised my mistake,
He gave me a leery grin,
But I’m very sad to have to say
I’d rather have emptied the bins.
You young folks make the most of it
For soon your bodies will be changing
And then you’ll find you are like me
‘Cos there ain’t no cure for ageing.