Fears of the Aged

In the December of our lives

When future plans are made

Most of us sit in our chairs

And feel rather afraid

Fear of physio, I’m afraid of the pain

Fear of therapy, afraid I’ll make no gain

I’m afraid that time won’t heal this stroke brain

I’m afraid I’ll never walk again

I’m afraid of a second stroke I cannot weather

Then who will keep my family together

Any thought of death makes me love them all the more

I ache for one of them to walk through that door.

I’m afraid my friends won’t have time to come

And share a pot of tea and a crumb

I’m afraid of feeling neglected and alone

I’m afraid of being put in a nursing home

I’m afraid I’ll have to sell my home

And homeless through a careless world roam

No one wants to sell their family house

Even to pay their debt

Because the fun and happiness of growing up there

Is too hard to forget

I’m afraid that some bad no-account

Will get into my bank account

And draw out such a large amount

I can’t buy basic things and such

And care and carers cost so much

I’m afraid what’s left of my mind will scatter

And I’ll lose the memory of things that matter

I fear old age and I won’t lie

I see people with dementia sitting by

I hear them call for someone to come

Someone who understands what old age has done

So I’m sitting here in my wheelchair

Listening to people shout, “I want out of here”.

But what they want is to be old no more

And be able to walk out the door

I hear them saying they want to go home again

But what they want is to be young women and men.