Riding the elevator in my highrise
The usual mix of families,
people of various ages
races, languages and nationalities.
And a strong contingent of seniors,
Walkers, canes and shuffling.
On my way to the swimming pool
Or the laundry room
Nothing special – a regular ride.
An older woman
A contemporary, I must admit,
Smiles and asks if I am on my
way to the senior center
Startled, I looked at her and say no
Never been there.
She said why don’t you try it.
If I were honest I would have said,
“ that’s not me.”
Instead I asked what goes on there.
“A sing along every Friday at 1 p.m.
Folk songs, broadway tunes.”
She plays the piano,
I’ve run into her a couple of times since
Exchanged hellos and a little conversation.
She: do you live alone?
No, with my wife (dare I say younger) and a friend;
And two dogs.
She: I lost my husband a few years ago.
It’s hard to be alone.
Can you be “old” and not a “senior.”
3 thoughts on “Growing Old in Riverdale”
Love seeing these moments…
This poem has such a relaxed, almost wistful feeling, Harry. Lovely