I just can’t get used to being my age,
it’s as weird as weird can be.
When I read about ” young people ” on the newspaper page
it’s hard to see they’re not talking about me
My age certainly never feels like the middle,
I feel like a kid, or feel old.
It bothers me more than a little,
I know too well what the future will hold.
This is the one thing you can’t fight,
well two if you include death.
You can try plastic surgery, but it never looks right,
and I want dignity until my last breath.
All those stupid, old actresses with their trout pouts,
trying so hard to beat time and tide.
The desperation screams and it shouts.
They look like Frankenstein’s bride.
Age can mean becoming more wise,
expansion instead of reduction.
More understanding behind my wrinkled eyes,
creation instead of destruction.
They say you learn something new everyday
and that’s something I seriously intend
Stay curious about whatever comes my way,
until the time at the very end.
©2020 Ian Lewis Copestick All rights reserved.
Ian Lewis Copestick is a 47-year-old writer from Stoke on Trent England. Although he started writing poetry in 2001, he only started sending them out for publication 8 months ago. In this time he has had over 100 poems and 5 short stories published. He is featured in print anthologies by Alien Buddha Press and Horror Sleaze Trash. His first book Detritus Of The Drunken Night was published by Cajun Mutt Press on April 2, 2019.