June Nash

Old…I Whine

 –

Aging now, like fine wine.

No, it’s…now old…I whine.

Things aren’t as should be.

I’m old, so respect me.

–

Two people, begin life.

Together handling strife.

Getting old, now both sick.

To independence still stick.

 –

Needs both different, great.

Upon family, need wait.

Institutions butt in,

Not listen, it’s a sin.

 –

The State, lets call him Bill,

Thinks we’re not capable.

Thinks we’d cause selves harm

If return to our farm.

 –

Says we need constant care.

Their hovering, we bear.

For this, expects that we

Deplete savings, pay fee.

 –

If we could have our say

We would just run away

But home, is where we’d run

Getting old, isn’t fun.

 –

Bill doesn’t understand

We’d rather die than land

In cold protective shell

Reins lost, rotting in hell.

–                   – June Nash