HOW LONG IS LOONEY?

If we live long enough

it’s gonna be rough.

Tell-tale signs of age

spoken off the cuff

betray us and oh

how long and how sad

will it get to be

before…until…we

write bad verse,  yet don’t hesitate

to remember to meditate

on what’s gone before and what

lies ahead instead?

Hey nonny nonny,

honey, if it’s not funny

why do we laugh at

our forget-me-nots?

When will we touch base

and head for home?

Not funny, dammit,

unless you’re like me–

easier to laugh

than it is to pee.

Ha ha got you there.

You expected to “cry.”

I know poor taste

when e’er I try

and will until my

looney runs dry.

Ouch! Tell me I

didn’t write this…

About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 83 now.
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3 Responses to HOW LONG IS LOONEY?

  1. Bob Shepherd says:

    Great poem, Nan!!! One of the things about aging is that we see it all our lives in older people but never expect, somehow, that it will happen to us. Yesterday, I got out of bed and had a terrible pain in my ankle. Had to use a cane for the first time in my life, for half the day. One thing after another. But my take: it’s all good, all part of the experience of living a life.

    Like

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