When I am an old man I shall wear black
With a white cap which doesn’t go with my tidy clothes, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my savings on puncheon rum and thick socks
And fake leather sandals, and say I have no money for doubles
I shall sit down at the corner when I can’t walk anymore
And walk through the mall sampling teriyaki bits and barbeque nibbles
And run my cane along the bumpy pavements
And make up for my early teetotaling ways.
I shall go barefoot in the rain
And pelt mangoes in other people’s yards
And learn to smoke old cigarette zoots.

You can wear undersized merinos and a stubbly beard
And eat three dozen oysters in one go
Or one loaf of bread and cheese for a week
And hoard notebooks and free pens and coffee cups and things in bright boxes.

But now we must have shirts and ties and new jackets
And pay our mortgages and watch our words in the papers
And be role models for a lost generation.
We must go for drives to the beach and listen to the news on radio.

But maybe I should think of these things now?
So you will know me when I pass noisily on Frederick street
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear black.

Wesley Gibbings

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-warn-you-borrowed-from-jenny-joseph-two-days-before-my-birthday/