A poem written by Judy Viorst

Couple dancingOur children, with a touch of pique,
Complain we’re out 4 nights a week,
And pressingly suggest we do more resting.
They offer us some dull advice
About the virtues of brown rice and other foods we don’t think worth ingesting.

They warn we are sure to slip
And give ourselves a fractured hip,
Unless when climbing stairs, we grip the railing.
They tell us to slow down, relax,
Lift nothing that will strain our backs,
And take a pill for everything that’s ailing.

We don’t ail all that much. In fact,
We see ourselves as quite intact,
Despite some losses physical and mental.
So though we know no harm is meant,
We’ve come to mightily resent
Our children’s tendency to act parental.

From her book I’m Too Young To Be Seventy, by Judith Viorst,

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