Both funny and poignant, this poem tells of the frustrations of ageing.
Those 80 years had passed in a flash,
A wife and mother, filled with haste, worry and dash.
Rearing three children has kept Maria busy,
Through it all she had never wanted to leave the city.
But here she was now, being coaxed away,
She had been politely told she is getting too old to stay.
The stairs had gotten tricky, there is no doubt,
But if she got stuck she could give the neighbours a shout.
“You are getting frail Mum”, her daughter had said.
“Come live with us, you can bring your own saggy bed.”
It had been nice to visit her daughter in the country
But it was life in the city that made her feel free.
Wandering through markets, sipping latte in plazas,
Time did not matter, she was her own master.
Do as she wanted, stay out all day if she wished
No one to answer to, she liked being missed
Insignificant, unimportant, a drop in the ocean,
To melt in the crowd and feel the urban commotion.
It made her feel young, really alive
In the country she would simply survive.
There she would be monitored, watched and advised.
Every fall, trip or mistake scrupulously analysed.
Always talking of age they wanted her to admit
That now she needed looking after.
What a crock of s..t!