Ode to the aging
Taken from the Book "Rainbo"
Families of Rainbo Mountain
Written by
Judge Farmer Helton
&
Frances Eleandor Helton Parsons

ODE TO THE AGING

Just a line to say, I'm alive not dead,
Tho I'm getting mixed up in my head

As I stand at the foot of the stairs
I wonder am I headed up or coming down.
And so I go round and round, sometimes thinking
Sometimes talking, wondering if the cause was the bacon.

Insulted by the spouse, I begin to pout,
Wondering whether I put food in the refrigerator
or took it out.

As I stand on the steps and wearing my nightcap
On my head, I'm thinking did I get up or am I
getting ready for bed?

I see on my desk a pencil and paper, a stamp or two,
I think to myself, have I just written you
So if I have, don't get sore, I promise I won't
Do no more and be a bore.

I go to the sink to take one of my dozen pills,
I'm thinking of my terrible ills, back, head
heart, liver, spine and my heel and toe
How many I just took, I'll never know.

Here I am before the mailbox, my face must be red
Instead of mailing you my letter, I opened it instead.

Thinking as I lay there prone,
Where can I find a telephone?
across from the bank I rushed
to make a dial,
searching for coins all the while
none did I find and the bank is closed
what will I do now as time does abide
I'll hitch hike home if I can get a ride.

Along came a drunk, and too a punk,
but he stopped and loaded me in the trunk
I rode and rode til my head did swim
then I realized what a mess I'm in.

On and on I said without a blink,
by now they must be opening the bank
seconds later the horn did sound.
open the trunk and let me out,
I began to shout and then I'm out.

I went to the bank and opened the door
teller said, you don't bank here anymore.
What luck for us to meet, she advised,
your bank is down the street.

As I left the bank, I met my Preacher Drew,
He said, can I help you, I said take me home.
Man, I want to go, he says heaaven has a price you know,
So I handed him my change, away we did go.
The angels were all aglow.

Your cousin, or brother

The Judge, or is it your mother

We must hurry up or lest we forget.


Submitted by: Judge Farmer Helton