20 March 2020

Being old and growing older

I’m ninety-four – I think that’s right – I might have missed a year,

Birthdays are best forgotten when you’re living here,

I think today’s a Tuesday, or maybe Sunday, is it?

I know that Saturday is when my daughter come to visit,


I know I’m not a hundred yet, because I haven’t seen

The congratulatory letter from Her Majesty the Queen,

But I know I’m getting on a bit ‘cos people tend to shout

“Good day Jack – it’s nice to see you’re able to get about.”


I had to give up driving; I was running into things

Like bicycles with eighteen wheels and garbage trucks with wings,

So half taxis are a goer and it only takes a minute

To ask if I can have the half that’s got the engine in it.


Now, institutional living had many little quirks

For instance, I don’t understand just how the laundry works,

My emerald green underpants seem to have gone astray

I haven’t seen a sight of them since last St Patrick’s Day


But we never lose ourselves here; we’re identified with labels

On our doors and wheelie frames and our places at the tables.

But the place that I am sitting at is clearly labelled “PAM”.

Ah well, not to worry then; p’raps that’s who I am.


Written by Arcare Carnegie client, Jack Davis.

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