The Frailty of Age





The frailty of age, when it takes hold of the young, and the exercise of life itself becomes a chore, is a bastard of a trip. Be the youth, join my uplifting song! Do what your heart desires, lovely thing, or be old before your time. Polio of the south poles: it happens to be it happened to me (clank, clank, clank, clank). No more toe tapping—that’s a chore like none, hear? No more leg crossing tap dancing ice skating circus tricks knees-ups ballet moves—water walking! Other things to master include the full drum kit the marching Oompah band—see the poster on the bulletin board—the garden spade (tried it, Mum...fell over, didn’t I?) the mardi gras—they wouldn’t let me drive the BILL I LOVE YOU SO float—no driving licence (not to mention not being gay; plus, I couldn’t make the trip up from Melbourne). Fair dinkum, some people.









Copyright ©  Peter Twohig. All rights reserved.