I'm Not Old... Just Mature
Today at the drugstore, the
clerk was a gent.
From my purchase this chap took off ten percent.
I
asked for the cause of a lesser amount;
And he answered, "Because of
the Seniors Discount."
I went to McDonald's for a burger and
fries;
And there, once again, got quite a surprise.
The clerk poured
some coffee which he handed to me.
He said, "For you, Seniors, the
coffee is free."
Understand... I'm not old... I'm merely
mature;
But some things are changing, temporarily, I'm sure.
The
newspaper print gets smaller each day,
And people speak softer... can't
hear what they say.
My teeth are my own (I have the
receipt.),
And my glasses identify people I meet.
Oh, I've slowed
down a bit ... not a lot, I am sure.
You see, I'm not old... I'm only
mature.
The gold in my hair has been bleached by the sun.
You
should see all the damage that chlorine has done.
Washing my hair has
turned it all white,
But don't call it gray... saying "blond" is just
right.
My car is all paid for... not a nickel is owed.
Yet a kid
yells, "Old duffer... get off of the road!"
My car has no scratches...
not even a dent.
Still I get all that guff from a punk who's "Hell
bent."
My friends all get older... much faster than me.
They
seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.
I've got "character
lines," not wrinkles... for sure,
But don't call me old... just call me
mature.
The steps in the houses they're building today
Are so
high that they take ... your breath all away;
And the streets are much
steeper than ten years ago.
That should explain why my walking is
slow.
But I'm keeping up on what's hip and what's new,
And I
think I can still dance a mean boogaloo.
I'm still in the running... in
this I'm secure,
I'm not really old... I'm only mature.
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