The inherent fear of getting older

I fight it every day

Like the aches deep rooted in my joints

Or the amount of hair that’s grey

But the one thing I keep rejecting

And ignoring indignantly

Is my inability to read the small text

When trying to cook my tea

Thirty at one-ninety?

An extra five at one-six-tee?

I’ll just whack it in at gas mark 6

And just pray it’s charcoal free