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Writer's pictureRussell Jacklin

Not too young to be a pensioner



With a thick tartan blanket,

An old rocking chair,

A pipe, some slippers,

White thinning hair.

A little black mongrel,

Asleep on the floor,

The love of a good wife,

Who could ask any more?

A big flat-screen TV,

Tuned to BBC 1,

A roaring log fire,

Matching the warmth of the sun,

A mug of hot chocolate,

With a biscuit or two,

The joys of old age,

Are coming to me too.

A day at the seaside,

Whether in the sun or the rain,

Half-priced travel,

On a high-speed train,

Listen to a concert,

From the band in the park,

Then stroll home together,

Through the trees in the dark.

A pint of good ale,

With friends in the bar,

Saturday afternoon golf,

Aiming for one over par,

Corned beef pickle sandwiches,

For my afternoon tea,

I haven't got long now,

Coz’ tomorrow, I’ll be three.


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