When I was just a little kid,
living way back when,
I never thought I'd be as old
as Mom and Dad were then.

Impatient for the milestones,
16, when I could drive.
Then partying at 21,
"adulthood" had arrived.

Age had never bothered me
as through the years I've grown;
then kids I used to babysit
had grandkids of their own.

Now that I have been around
five decades and a half,
I accept gray hair and wrinkles
and peeing when I laugh.

I've learned a lot of lessons
in a half a century,
and I no longer give a hoot
what others think of me.

I'm getting senior discounts,
a fact I'd never hide.
There comes a time when saving money
triumphs over pride.

The question always haunts me, though,
no answer to be told.
While I wasn't looking,
how on earth did I get old?