A Poem By My Grandma

My grandma is in a poetry workshop at a senior center where she takes classes.  Tomorrow they're doing a "reading" at lunch -- each of them gets up and reads one of their poems, and the audience is "held captive," she said -- "they don't get to eat until everyone is done."  She read me her poem and I thought I'd share it.  Here it is:

"What Is Old Age?"

I look in the mirror and what do I see
Red-rimmed eyes, deep wrinkles, and white hair staring back at me
But I don't care
When I look deeper and beneath the surface
Past the superficial outside to what's really inside
Each wrinkle is an experience, each one a tear
My eyes red from looking at the world all these years
My white hair a symbol of the things I have done
The people I have touched and who have touched me
I don't fret
I am glad for the red eyes, the wrinkled skin, and white hair
They are my memories

Comments

[RES]

I really really really hope that you're going to write a book about your grandmother. I think it would be a lovely counterpoint to AL.

[MF]

That's a really good poem -- I hope your grandma gets better soon.

[Seth Clementi]

I like your grandma's poem. Super! This will always remind us of how we should be dealing with others as we age. We must enjoy every single day here on earth, whether we're young, or retiring already.