I’m Fine, Thank You! (poem)
There is nothing the matter with me.
I’m as healthy as I can be.
I have arthritis in both of my knees
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin.
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
Arch supports I have for my feet
Or I wouldn’t be able to be on the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning, I find I’m all right.
My memory is failing; my head’s in a spin.
But I’m awfully well for the shape that I’m in.
Old age is golden, I’ve heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder, as I get into bed.
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
‘Ere sleep overtake me, I say to myself,
“Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?”
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
And pick up the paper and read the “Obits.”
If my name is still missing, I know I’m not dead,
So I have a good breakfast and go back to bed.
The moral is this as my tale I unfold . . .
That for you and for me who are now growing old,
It’s better to say, “I’m fine,” with a grin,
Than to let folks be told the exact shape that I’m in.
–Author Unknown–