On Turning Eighty

In the twinkling of an eye, I’ve turned eighty
I guess I’ve become an old lady.
Should I stop wearing jeans,
Give up racy magazines?
These questions are driving me crazy.

How should I act in my dotage?
Of this I lack info and knowledge.
Can I challenge my brain,
And stop the weight gain,
What way can I turn up the wattage?

How do I deal with technology,
With its own confusing psychology?
Should I twitter or tweet
Use AI in defeat
Or simply just give an apology?

The list of queries is endless.
It’s filled with much angst, I confess.
Use a cane or risk falling,
The thought is appalling,
And filling me up with much stress.

There’s no right or wrong, I might guess.
Life isn’t a more or a less.
So I’ll just go along,
On a wing and a song,
And live life to the fullest and bestest.

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