On aging

Poem by Maya Angelou, born on 4 April 1928

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Photo by L taken along Boat Quay

When you see me sitting quietly
Like a sack left on the shelf,
Don’t think I need your chattering.
I’m listening to myself.
Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me!
Hold! Stop your sympathy!
Understanding if you got it,
Otherwise I’ll do without it!

When my bones are stiff and aching
And my feet won’t climb the stair,
I will only ask one favour:
Don’t bring me no rocking chair.

When you see me walking, stumbling,
Don’t study and get it wrong.
Cause tired don’t mean lazy
And every goodbye aint gone.
I’m the same person I was back then,
A little less hair, a little less chin,
A lot less lungs and much less wind.
But aint I lucky I can still breathe in.

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