Old Age Is Not For Sour Pusses

I lost my glasses the other day,
Where were they, do you s’pose?
Well, they were on my head all right,
But on my forehead, not my nose.

The smallest things amuse me,
Like rising from my chair,
I rock upon my haunches,
‘Til I rock me in the air.

Today I left the coffee out,
When I plugged the coffee maker in,

I really get a kick from
Blowing dust curls out of sight,
There was a time if I’d seen one,
I would have cleaned all night.

And I think it is hilarious,
When I get Viagra ads,
In unmarked, plain, brown envelopes,
I laugh, but don’t get mad.

In fact, I almost ordered some,
For an old friend of mine with needs,
But his arthritis was so bad,
He would have rubbed it on his knees.

The many different pills I take,
Are just like tiddly-winks,
My thumb can flip them to my tongue.
And I’m very good, I think.

I’ve been cautioned by well-meaning folks,
To keep my doors locked tight,
I laugh because I know so well,
My abductor would drop me at first light.

One night when I sat down to dinner,
Everything smelled so good,
But I laughed when I picked up my fork,
For I forgot to serve the food.

You say growing old’s not funny,
Well, that depends, my friend,
If you can giggle at yourself,
I think you’ll make it to the end.

And I hope with all my heart and soul,
When Saint Peter lets you through,
He’s teasing, when he stops and asks,
“WHO THE HECK ARE YOU?”