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.
Washing
my hair has turned it all white,
But don't call it gray...saying 'blonde' 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.