My skin is old
My hair is grey
My speech is impaired
When I read the cricket scores in the paper
I am a boy again.
That boy
Who had no idea
What life would look like at 70
My tweed coat is motheaten
My stomach bulbous
My sister has been dead for 25 years
Is that all there is?
No, wait – there is so much
I listen to songs
We played when we were almost young
Young women look so pretty
Older women look so pretty
Old women look as old as they are
I cannot whistle
I cannot ******
I cannot stand and ***
I cannot sing
The songs of my youth
Which have become the anthems of my old age
But, I can think
I can stand on one leg,
I can eat from a spoon
I can read words
I can write them too
I am a boy of 70
That boy
Who has no idea