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Senior Christmas---Bah, Humbug!

"Christmas can be achy and a tad depressing if you're old!"
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An ongoing fixation upon life, death, and creation
and a bunch of other existential folly,
includes some inner raging about the effects of aging
and prevents my mood from getting very jolly.

Yes carolers are singing and the Christmas bells are ringing
and some birdies even chirping in the trees.
A branch is gently swaying from two squirrels that are playing...
but I am also swaying from bad knees!

Once taller than six feet when there was someone I would meet
they would look up and say, "Oh my, how straight and tall!"
Now I barely am five nine and have a slightly bending spine
and people say, "Be careful not to fall."

My joints are getting squeaky and my bladder getting leaky
and my arms too weak to weight lift or play tennis.
The many root canals done by my endodontist pals
have cost a fortune. They now call me Mr. Venice!

I used to start romance with just a single smile or glance
and in return receive a quick coquettish look!
Now if ever I do stare it just elicits utter terror...
unless it's at my adult coloring book.

I would take a nature hike or ride my twenty-four-speed bike
for many miles over hills and through the dales.
Now I sometimes need a cane so I can mitigate hip pain
and I will only do stairways with both handrails!

In my youth, I could be bold and ski downhills in icy cold
and even slalom between trees when it was snowing.
In the midst of winter’s chill, I now consume an aspirin pill
to stop clots and make sure my blood keeps flowing.

And after the spring snow as the green grass began to grow
I would gas up and start my trusty mulching mower.
It is grass that I now buy but not to get a pleasant high...
it is to get my high blood pressure lower!

When it came to sexy stuff I just could never get enough.
The limit of my lust...it was the sky!
But one cannot orgasm when their back goes into a spasm
and they’re praying that it's time for them to die.

I remember taking care with my abundant fine brown hair
as I would work it into a long tail or bun.
Now I am hirsute bereft as just a few thin strands are left...
it won’t be long before I’m down to none.

Oh well I won't complain because I still can try again
to get both praise and prizes for my little rhymes.
And in precisely that regard I beg, "Please judges don't grade hard."
Just overlook my word and meter crimes!


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