The first one I read…
How do I know, my youth has been spent?
Because my get-up and go, got up and went.
But in spite of all that, I am able to grin.
When I think where, my get-up and go has been.
And the second one…
Old age is golden, I have heard it said.
But sometimes, I wonder as I go to bed.
My ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
Ere sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
I get up each morning, dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the obits,
If my name is missing, I know I’m not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Note: these two poems were from two separate clippings in my old paper files. It appears they may have both originated in a single anonymous poem titled “Young at Heart”, which exists on the internet in various forms.
You can find the many iterations on this one particular site: http://s1.zetaboards.com/MPATHS/topic/4099579/1/.