Mum's Genes

I know every nuance about getting old
How wrinkles form
And flesh will fold,
Not that I’m experienced,
Don't You Know?
Through words I’ve inherited it,
So I've been told.

It’s great to me mum’s more a friend,
And everything to me
(like genes, money) she will lend,
But it’s sometimes too much
When will she see?
I don't want to learn
Before really needs be.

So I nod my head,
proclaim to agree,
That life so goes downhill
When you're past fifty-three,
when all I really yearn to do
Is close my ears,
And outwards yell:

"I’m far too young for this ageing lark"
My daughter, I think
shall be kept in the dark...