'Roll over'

  • Esh Sond

A short poem about ageing.

They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,
but not all dogs want to be taught. I’ve had my fair share of tricks in my day, but at least I was never caught.

I can’t run the way I used to, yet I still race around, in my head;
running through the memories of my life,
from the comfort of my own bed.

I’ve replaced my frizzy perm for a tight, grey bun,
my dimples for wrinkles, long runs to strolls with the dog, because I enjoy things being simple.

I find peace in my routine; dog – church – shop – home,
Occasionally someone will briefly pop by,
before me and my dog are left alone.

No one pays attention to me now,
They just rush past in silence,
And I just hold onto Mylo's lead, Or my walking stick for guidance.

Although sometimes I miss that youthful existence,
Where my legs weren’t as stiff as bricks, I’m enjoying the blissfulness that comes with ageing,
Spending the days teaching my dog new tricks.