Seems a bit silly as a teen

To write about when I get old

That said, you’re all here listening

So let the truth be told.

When I’m old, I will refuse

To keep up with new technology.

I’m sixteen and I just got a

Smartphone, imagine how I’ll be.

Boris, I told you for the hundredth

Time, we’re not getting a time machine!

Why can’t people these days be content

With the year we’re already living in?

When I’m old, I won’t care whether

I’m fat or thin. I will eat a peanut butter

And jam sandwich without fear, wash

It down with ginger nuts and orange juice.

When I’m old, I’ll join the community

Walking group, watch my blue-sky

Suburb drift slowly past my eyes

Leaving mist in its wake.

When I’m old, I’ll have a garden

And fill it with yellow roses and

Courgettes, carrots, lettuce

Keeping seedlings in pastel pots.

When I’m old, I won’t be afraid

Of aging. I will not be a birch-tree

Elderly ranting about how we could

Turn back time with brutal freezing.

I pray an agnostic prayer

That I will not be afraid of death

When they come knocking, dressed

In pale blue, tear rolling down their cheek.

I will brush their soft linen garments

Tell them I’m ready for them, that I’ve

Had a fulfilling life and I’m tired

And I wouldn’t mind a lie down in a coffin.