Marlene Iris Deverall (née Krause)

Old age is golden I’ve hard it said but,

sometimes wonder as I get into bed,

with my ears in the drawer, my teeth in a cup, my eyes on the table until I wake up.

Ere sleep overtakes me, I say to myself, “Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?”

When I was young my slippers were red, I could kick my heels right over my head.

When I was older my slippers were blue, but still I could dance the whole night through.

Now I am old my slippers are black, I walk to the shop and puff my way back.

I get up each morning and dust off my wits, and pick up the paper and read the “Obits”, if my name is still missing I know I’m not dead,

so I have a good breakfast and go back to bed.