Wednesday, November 5, 2014


Lest you think I've lost my marbles with tonight's blog, let me explain.  I might be late for the party but I finally get it, getting old has a lot of great things about it.  Some of us (me) are a little dense and it takes us a while to understand that there are more things to appreciate about aging than things to complain about.  After all, complaining never helped anyone and no one wants to hear your laundry list of aches and pains, anyway.

I can't say just how many poems I'm planning to write or the dates you can expect them but what I can say is that I'm going to begin a series on aging and this is the first installment.

By Patty Lynn

I used to think that growing old
Was something to be feared,
That every age spot, wrinkle, crease,
Was nothing short of weird.

‘Cause as those things were taking place,
I didn’t look like me,
That sagging skin, those jowls, too,
Results of gravity…

Showed me those creams and formulas
I tried to no avail,
Gave me false hope,
            Made me a dope,
Confined to aging jail.

But then one day I saw myself
As through a child’s eyes,
And what I saw as they saw me?
Was Grandma, loving, wise.

They loved my squishy tummy,
The warmth of my embrace,
The way I whispered, “I love you,”
And kissed their precious face.

I realized through their real eyes,
Though I saw imperfections,
The opposite was what they saw
There in the mirror’s reflection.

Thank goodness that it’s not too late
For me to learn the truth:
With aging comes great privilege,
So never envy youth.

Yes, being young has certain perks
But they just can’t compare
With being GRANDMA every day…
            With wrinkles?

I’m so there!

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