Anno Domino

Something of a rambling poem all about old age!

Anno Domino

Now it is the Common Era, not A.D.,
Which was Anno Domini, you see,
But which could also mean old age,
The passing of time, the final stage
Before the end. Bones once strong
Become brittle, balance goes wrong,
And we fall so easily, fragile, break:
Parkinson’s comes to make us shake;
Our eyesight fades, hearing is lost:
Old age, you see, comes with a cost,
And we must pay. But a new name
Would better suit our feeble frame:
Anno Domino, not Domini, because
It comes not singly, with a pause,
But one by one, toppling, as we see:
Dominoes falling, now goes my knee,
And then my back, my hair is gone;
Balance: I totter like a drunken don,
And shaking legs take cautious steps,
As fat replaces muscular biceps;
And I wobble along, an aging wreck,
Along the last journey, the final trek:
These are the voyages of the infirm,
To boldly go, and catch a nasty germ;
Atishoo! And finally we all fall down,
Like Humpty Dumpty, break our crown;
And is there a moral at this poem’s end?
Don’t worry, be happy, go round the bend!