It’s quite alarming to suddenly realise that you have reached the 83rd year, and in your mind still think as a young man.
Suddenly you’re helped up stairs,
and you’re walking just gets slower.
The walking stick, stops falling scares,
and you wish that kerb was lower.
Your thoughts are young. but the bodies old,
seen and done, too many things.
Your feet and hands and ears get cold,
and the body no longer springs.
Where have all the years gone,
I’ve watched them fade away.
Once I seemed to have such time,
but there’s little left today.
But I have many memories,
now that I’m getting old.
collecting many strange maladies,
and the winters, seem so cold.
But my childhood days come back so clear,
with my three sisters and three brothers,
a magical time, forever near,
as our mum ‘Angel Mary’ mothers
The war, then my Tilly, those desert days,
then a policeman in London Town.
Wonderful memories forever stays,
and will never cause a frown.
Then Pat’s fretful wail, as our first born,
looking so much, just like me,
the sun it shone, on her first dawn,
such a happy little girl to see.
Picnics outside, in the sun,
winter evenings making toast,
all those things we did for fun,
train and car rides to the coast.
Then Len and Nick, they came along,
we were the perfect fam-ily.
Christmas carols we sang in song,
Buckets and spades, went with us to the sea.
The boys built castles in the sand,
collecting sea shells to take home.
Tilly washing each grubby hand,
tangled hair, smoothed with her comb.
Christmas stockings, those little treasures,
all the parties and the fun,
gave the children so many pleasures
for our daughter and our sons.
It’s quite nice now, to sit and dream,
and if I could have my life again,
and go back to those places I’ve been,
then I would love to do it again.