We asked Sandra Conant Strachan, Author of Balancing Act: Strategies for Successful Aging to contribute this poem for our website. Please feel free to comment and provide her feedback!
Long ago when I had a waist,
A little more hearing, a little more taste,
I basked in the glory of youth complete,
Never complaining about my feet,
Or noting the height of the toilet seat
Or thinking a minute about what I’d eat.
it seemed to me then that I’d never be old,
Never too hot, always too cold,
Never with gray hair or droopy jowls,
Never long earlobes or silent bowels,
Never so stiff the gym rings with my howls.
But that time has come, and I feel I should say,
That seventy three years seems like a day,
In a life that despite all its too-common ills
Is so full of love that it thoroughly fills
My soul to the brim with everyday thrills!
All this is mine even as night descends
As the days grow shorter and existence ends
It no longer matters I don’t have a waist,
A little more hearing, a little more taste,
What matters is only that I not waste
This one wild and precious life.