Reflections on being 85

Mirror, mirror on the wall,

Why should a person care at all,

If in the mirror he's looking old

When in the grave it's mostly mold.

So ask yourself and ask you wife,

"How should I spend remaining life?

Should I just dream of days gone by, 

And punch old sorrows in the eye?

Or dream of present life with thee,

And futures we shall never see?

Mirror, mirror, on the ceiling,

Image thine is not appealing.

Mirror, mirror, on the floor,

Like reason, you are just a whore,

whose warnings now are such a sham,

I frankly do not give a damn.