When young, old age was just a rumour
justifiably ignored.
Although old folk were sometimes seen,
they could be properly forgotten
as alien embarrassments
in a world of wonder
waiting to be explored.

No knowledge then of the waiting tumour,
evolution's handicap.
Maturity too busy also,
earning a living, settling down,
companioning partners, raising kids,
to notice the closing trap.

Still nothing need disturb the humour
contemplating life ahead -
the traffic lights are mostly green
and if they're amber, you nip past them;
you can't wait for red.

But all the colours in the future
start to darken into dread.
There's a roadblock on the highway
which will stop you dead.

Debilitation and dementia
mark the progress of your ailment
for which there isn't any treatment.

So say goodbye to all your former
happiness (no use to rage)

and hello to your terminal trauma

of old age.