Jurassic People

The midriff bulge that will not go,
The skinny hair that just wont grow.
That jam jar lid you cannot turn,
Instruction books you never learn.

The crooked back that wont stand up,
The dodgy hand that drops the cup.
The chair where missing loved ones sat,
Now home to no one but the cat.

The person in the mirror who,
Isn't who you know as you.
The telephone that makes you cry,
Another friend has passed on by.

There must be more to growing old,
Than aching joints and fear of cold.
Of weary faces, worn and lined.
And memories that we leave behind.