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