PENSIONER'S RANT a poem by Ann Wilson

Yes, we're much older,
but we still have our sense.
We're not all senile,
with double incontinence.

We're not completely batty,
or going round the bend.
Or sit looking gloomy,
waiting for the end.

There's a multitude of things,
that we aspire to do.
Have ideals and ambitions,
just like the rest of you.

We're not all frail and feeble,
though well past our prime.
It's just inconvenient,
we can't halt time.

We're not all decrepit,
most of us don't smell.
We're not all deaf yet,
so please don't yell.

And don't you dare suggest,
we're devoid of passion.
'cause we've all lived and loved
and had more than our ration.

We don't moan continually
and hate all the young.
Even though we sometimes,
have to bite our tongue...

When we remember our youth,
that's now in the past
and wish the pace of life
was not so flipping fast.

We need a little tolerance
and we want your patience.
Don't want to be dismissed
as useless, old ancients.

A little more respect
would go a long way.
To quote another cliché;
it would make our day.

Getting older, we believe,
is not yet a crime.
Old age will come creeping,
to you all, in time.