Senior Citizen

'Tis true we are no longer youthful
A fact we've no need to conceal

But if the old adage be truthful
We're only as old as we feel



Three score years and more
But counting our blessings instead of years
Three score years and more
Our blessings outnumber the years

As lovely as flowers in December
Are memories that memory brings

The happiest days we remember
The sad ones grow less with the years

We'll never grow rich on our pensions
We'll just try to make it suffice
Our wealth is in friendships but sometimes
A little more cash would be nice

Some think the best days are behind us
And all the good times in the past

But then we would like to remind them
That often the best wine comes last