And seem to be very upset,
By constantly feeling the threat
Of the inevitability of death.
And there certainly is no denying
That this worry, and the “fear of Dying”
- A fact of the human condition -
Drives our fear of perdition.
But while studying lifespans is cool,
And nobody wants to be fooled,
By harmful mutations of genes
That govern life's unchanging scene,
Yet the proliferation of those
Who study of aging the cause
Has recently appeared to grow,
And I became one in the know:
At 96, there must somewhere exist
Of people my age, a short list,
For lately my e-mails contain
Proposals to study my brain.
Some want me, for an hour, to stay,
In a place sometimes out of my way,
So they can test me and thus ascertain
That I indeed have a functioning brain.
Others on their ideas are sold,
That my blood shows why I am so old,
Some cannot believe the true fact
That my brain, on the whole, is intact...
And I? I am curious to see
What their conclusion might be,
And I'm glad that I can find some time
To write an occasional rhyme...