The Old Know

[brynmawr1]

The Old Know
 
The old know how to fold a map,
to use a rotary phone and
untangle the cord.
 
They know the serenity in writing a letter,
the joy of receiving the reply,
the anticipation in between.
 
The old know that walking,
face in a phone is dangerous                  This was my attempt at humor!
so, they don’t.
 
They know how days are short
when long in years.                                        We all age differently.  I find the days to be actually longer, at least they feel longer.  Trying for a little double meaning here, mostly that time is short literally and metaphorically.
 
The old know the gift of loving for a lifetime,
and the loneliness of one left behind.
 
The old know the only thing worse
than death,
is not living.

I think some more examples would improve your poem.  I was going to argue about your last line, but the more I read it, the more sense it makes.  Perhaps the cell phone line would work better if it was an observation of everyone else with their phones in their faces, whereas the old remember when we talked to face to face.  I'm also thinking old people have certain priorities and the past is one of them.  One thought I had is about how frustrating it is to have been through something and then watch someone else go through it and not take your advice and struggle.  My kids do it all the time!

My sister said to me, I'm not afraid of death, I'm afraid of dying.  That is kind of what i was trying to get at with the last line. "not living" can mean a lot of different things to different people.  For my mom is was being stuck in a memory care facility during covid.

Maybe you could use that.           

I agree it's maybe too sentimental.  As another old person of my aquaintance liked to say, old age isn't for sissies.   So true

TqB

Thanks for your comments.  I found a post from Mark in which he referenced a poem, which I really liked, on the poetry foundation website.  Anyway, I was poking round the  website and found this and I thought you might enjoy it.  Cutting the Sun by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni | Poetry Foundation
Thanks again,
steve