I Am Not World

My eyes are fine; they are just printing words small.

I just use a walking stick to seem stately and tall.

Nothing is wrong with my sense of smell.

My ears are fine if you don't whisper but yell.

The wrinkles just laugh lines; they will go away.

It is a fashion that has turned my hair from black to grey.

It's the cold, not age that is stiffening my knees.

I like to hum as I walk; it's not a wheeze.

What extra kilos? My scale is broken down.

If I try, I can still fit into my wedding gown.

My bones don't creak; my shoes are new.

My memory is sharp. Oh, do I know you?

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