Growing Old

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I thought I was prepared for my growing-old days.
I didn't know how the seventies would be.
I thought I'd just sit and enjoy my life
With my rocking chair, my Bible, and me.

At the end of my road there's a payday, I've heard,
And regardless of what I go through,
I should lift up my head, put a smile on my face
And do just what I can do.

I try to think back to when things started to change:
I couldn't walk fast anymore,
The phone would keep ringing, but I was too slow.
And I didn't even hear knocks at the door.

Everything around me's a mess now.
Dirty dishes are piled up --in threes.
And my clothes never learned how to hang themselves up
'Cause they always depended on me.

But I've gotten too tired to work anymore.
My best days are gone. Now I'm old.
If I could recall the days of my youth,
I wouldn't trade them for silver or gold.

I feel like I'm always in somebody's way!
Such a helpless place to be.
While they are still playing, enjoying their life,
It's real hard--just four walls and me.

I remember so well the good times I had.
And the bad times--I got through somehow.
Still, I'm thankful I'm living, that I know who I am,
And I am halfway through "seventies" now.

But here is the part most precious of all
At the end of my seventies, you'll see
When my "red light" turns "green", I'll go as fast as I can,
'Cause Heaven's the next place I'll be!
© 2000 June Moore