Poem about problems getting old

05/30/2012 at 8:24 AM 2 comments

Old…I Whine


Aging now, like fine wine.

No, it’s…now old…I whine.

Things aren’t as should be.

I’m old, so respect me.

Two people, begin life.

Together handling strife.

Getting old, now both sick.

To independence still stick.


Needs both different, great.

Upon family, need wait.

Institutions butt in,

Not listen, it’s a sin.


The State, lets call him Bill,

Thinks we’re not capable.

Thinks we’d cause selves harm

If return to our farm.


Says we need constant care.

Their hovering, we bear.

For this, expects that we

Deplete savings, pay fee.


If we could have our say

We would just run away

But home, is where we’d run

Getting old, isn’t fun.


Bill doesn’t understand

We’d rather die than land

In cold protective shell

Reins lost, rotting in hell.

–                   – June Nash

Entry filed under: Poetry. Tags: , , , , , , .

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2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Emmett Bacolor  |  05/31/2012 at 11:12 AM

    very good post, i actually love this web site, keep on it


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Copyright notice

Original poetry. Copyright 2012, June Nash

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