My Slippers

[chilledchimp]

This lovely poem about getting older was written by Steve's Grandmother, Jane:

When I was younger my slippers were red
I could kick my heels right over my head
When I was older, my slippers were blue
But still I could dance the whole night through

Now that I'm old, my slippers are black
I walk to the store and puff my way back
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
Pick up the paper and read the "obits"
My name is still missing; I know I'm not dead
So I get a good breakfast and go back to bed