Age Concern

My little dog, he’s old like me,
He’s grey around the muzzle
And yet he sits and stares like he
Can understand life’s puzzle

He knows his life will stop quite soon
But doesn’t seem to fret
Maybe he is quite in tune
To greet the end we get

I sometimes wonder how he knows
He seems so much at peace
Does he sense just where he goes
When he gets 'life release'

His years are shorter, far, than mine
Yet seems he is not jealous
And so I wonder why for sign
Of long life we are zealous

In modern life, we wave the wand
Like many countless folk
Who’ve gathered means so far beyond
What seems to be a joke

And so we fight off penury
We fear to lose our wealth
To rob us of a century
Of greed and sex by stealth

But how, in truth, was it we chose
This woe-begotten state
Where all we do is consult those
Who stop us from being ‘late’

Have we got so little trust
There is no life awaiting
And thus, to go on living must
Be what we’re reinstating

Next, if I’m a lucky one
Will be there when I share
All delight under the sun
Without a manmade care

To be a mayfly for a day,
An eagle on the morrow
A bat, to play the night away
And then a Swift or Swallow

Why do we think that owning all
Is what makes life worthwhile?
When joyful minutes can enthral
Like inches in a mile.

Chris Higginson
1st Provocative Verse