There once were some people who raged
About being what's called "middle-aged."
To avoid the confusion
They held a reunion.
Fun memories soon disengaged.
The dress code they said, "Strictly casual" -
To accommodate all of the gradual
Midsection spreading
That they all were dreading,
Though worry proved to be irrational.
Some say they are older than dirt,
But these insults will rarely cause hurt.
Life gave a licking,
But they are still ticking
Much faster than those now inert.
Oh, sure, perhaps their lives are waning,
But actually, they think they're gaining:
One hundred or more
Is the age they will score
If ever their hips stop complaining!
