I sat on the floor next to Mum the night before she passed away, holding her hand and read her this poem/limerick, afterwards she smiled and said “that was lovely” . I know that was the last time I will see you smile Mum but it will be with me forever whenever I think of you and wherever I am ❤️ Here follows the poem. Note from a 70-year old: To those who ask: I’m Fine Thanks There is nothing the matter with me, I’m as healthy as I can be, I have arthritis in both my knees, And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze. My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin, But I’m awfully good for the shape I‘m in. Arch supports I have for my feet, Or I wouldn’t be able to be on the street, Sleep is denied me every night, But every morning I feel alright; My memory is failing, my head’s in a spin, But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in. The moral is this, as this tale I unfold, That for you and for me who are growing old, It’s better to say “I’m fine” with a grin, Than to let folks know the shape we are in. How do I know that my youth is all spent? Well, my get up and go, has got up and went! But I really don’t mind when I think with a grin, Of all the great places my get up has been; Old age is golden I have heard it said, But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed, With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup, My eyes on the table when I wake up; Ere sleep comes to me, I say to myself, Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf? When I was younger my slippers were red, I could kick my heels right over my head; When I grew older my slippers were blue, But still I could dance the whole night through; Now I’m old, my slippers are black, I walk to the store and puff my way back. I get up each morning and dust off my wits, Pick up the paper and read the obits. If my name is still missing, I know I’m not dead, So, I get a good breakfast and go back to bed.