MARY MONTEITH POEM

YOU TELL ME I'M GETTING OLD
 I TELL YOU THAT'S NOT SO
THIS OLD HOUSE I LIVE IN IS ALL WORN OUT
 AND THAT OF COURSE, I KNOW
IT'S BEEN ON USE A LONG, LONG WHILE
 IT'S WEATHERED MANY A GALE
 I'M REALLY NOT SURPRISED
YOU THANK IT'S GETTING SOMEWHAT FRAIL
 THE COLOR'S CHANGED ON THE ROOF
 THE WINDOWS ARE GETTING DIM
 THE WALLS ARE A BIT TRANSPARENT
 AND LOOKING RATHING THIN
THE FOUNDATION IS NOT SO STEADY
 AS IT ONCE USED TO BE
MY HOUSE IS GETTING SHAKY
 BUT MY HOUSE ISN'T ME
A FEW SHORT YEARS CAN'T MAKE ME OLD
  I FEEL I'M IN MY YOUTH
ETERNITY LIES JUST AHEAD
 A LAND OF JOY AND TRUTH
I'M GONING TO LIVE FOREVER THERE
 LIFE WILL GO ON---IT'S GRAND
YOU TELL ME I'M GETTING OLD
 YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND

Mary Monteith