Today I turned fifty. I feel really good.
My body’s still working quite well thanks. (Touch wood!)
My hair’s not too grey, my wrinkles are few,
I can still touch my toes with my knuckles. (Can you?)
I’m quite full of vigour, just getting ripe.
(But they now print the phone book in much smaller type.)
My hearing’s still good. What’s that you say?
Speak clearly, don’t mumble, your voice wafts away.
Inside this old body I’m still young, but then
If life starts at forty, I’m really just ten.
~Sue Taylor~

Only old people used chains to hold their glasses…..until youngsters like me started using them.

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

~Jenny Joseph~