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GETTING ON

I really don't know what's wrong,
Don't wish to harp on like an old song.
Don't know if it's a sign of the times,
I feel my poems are the crime.

My body's had more than it can take,
Bump's and bruises starts to shake.
My thoughts I can't seem to coalesce,
Going out is no fun anymore I confess.

I was never ever told,
The frailty of getting old.
When you fall bone's will crack,
With my aching legs dodgy back.

Is it the television that's blurry,
Or is it just my vision that's slurry.
If told to get on my bike I'd have to refrain,
With my luck I'd probably fall down again.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley