Getting Old

In youth we tend to celebrate our ageing

     In twilight years we get to raging

over he very same passage of time.

For some of us, the rage is vented

     because we obviously appear quite bented,

Avoiding mirrors lest we see another sign.

Of gray hairs there and wrinkles here,

     of sagging jowls, like basset hounds.

Of this and that and these and those,

     Ye Gods, the bloom is off the rose!