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I was standing in the airport in Charlotte a few weeks ago on my way home from visiting my daughter in Texas and as I watched the people scurry by something became painfully obvious. I pulled out my iPhone and began to type. This is the result:

I tuck my shirt

I tie my sneakers

Don’t need the best

Stereo speakers

The rebel is dead

I do what I’m told

Could it be

I’m getting old?

In bed at 9

Back up at dawn

A lot fewer brains

Even less brawn

It seems my feet

Are always cold

You don’t think

I’m getting old?

I play the Beatles,

The Stones, The Who

At a wedding don’t

Know what to do

On modern dancing

I am not sold

Two left feet or

Just getting old?

Hearing is going

I am afraid

Can never decipher

What’s been said

While all of this

Had been foretold

It ain’t no fun

this growing old

In the mirror

To my chagrin

My double chin

Has a double chin

Yes, I’m a sight

To behold

A poster boy

For getting old

My hairless head

Is nothing new

It started when

I turned forty-two

Hat now a must

When weather’s cold

A standard issue

When you are old

Look at this belly,

Actually, don’t

I do my crunches

But they won’t

Iron out my

Stomach’s folds

No six pack when

Your body’s old

Finding a men’s room

Now high on my list

Opportunities to pee

Cannot be missed

Once my bladder

Could be controlled

Now it’s the boss

Okay, I’m old.

Funny thing is

I’m a kid inside

My aches and pains

And forgetfulness aside

If I may dare

To be so bold

My heart, my soul

Can’t fathom old

Plane is boarding

I have to run

But writing this

Sure’s been fun

Time to quit though

If truth be told

I’m out of words

That rhyme with old

Ed Ackerman writes The Optimist every week. Look for his blogs online during the week at