Past my Prime

I am not an old foggy

Well past my prime

I still jog at dawn with my doggy

calling me old is a crime!

All my teeth are in the right place

so what if you call them dentures

My eye-sight is still in the race

after both my cataract-ops adventures!

Did you say, I open the door

only after the third ring

Surely aren’t you sore

‘cause my will leaves you nothing?

I can still button my shirt

and comb my scanty hair

I often follow anything in a skirt

Without fearing a kick in my rear!

Or do you grudge my age

Where I have wisdom on my side?

I’ll always be the rage

No matter how much I age

I’ll never be alone

Though I may have none by my side!
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The copyright of this poem is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.