Seems a bit silly as a teen
To write about when I get old
That said, you’re all here listening
So let the truth be told.
When I’m old, I will refuse
To keep up with new technology.
I’m sixteen and I just got a
Smartphone, imagine how I’ll be.
Boris, I told you for the hundredth
Time, we’re not getting a time machine!
Why can’t people these days be content
With the year we’re already living in?
When I’m old, I won’t care whether
I’m fat or thin. I will eat a peanut butter
And jam sandwich without fear, wash
It down with ginger nuts and orange juice.
When I’m old, I’ll join the community
Walking group, watch my blue-sky
Suburb drift slowly past my eyes
Leaving mist in its wake.
When I’m old, I’ll have a garden
And fill it with yellow roses and
Courgettes, carrots, lettuce
Keeping seedlings in pastel pots.
When I’m old, I won’t be afraid
Of aging. I will not be a birch-tree
Elderly ranting about how we could
Turn back time with brutal freezing.
I pray an agnostic prayer
That I will not be afraid of death
When they come knocking, dressed
In pale blue, tear rolling down their cheek.
I will brush their soft linen garments
Tell them I’m ready for them, that I’ve
Had a fulfilling life and I’m tired
And I wouldn’t mind a lie down in a coffin.