When I Grow up

I have been graciously invited to a dinner put on by the Big Table people tomorrow night. While I was sitting on the little deck this morning having my coffee, out popped a poem for them.  here goes...

When I grow up
I will be a guest,
fun shoes and a hat,
creatively dressed.

I won't wear an apron,
or non-skid black shoes,
but will pick a silk dress,
in my fa-vo-rite blues.

Won't carry four dinners,
up over my head,
feel that everyday ache,
when I hit the bed.

I'll walk in and say
"Yes, a table for four,
over there by the window,
not near the front door"

"May I have a lemon
for my water please?
And an appie of rosemary
crackers with cheese?"

"Oh yes, take my plate
and refill my glass."
Oh here she comes now,
with my lemon sea bass.

And when it's all done,
and the evening is through,
I'll tell you what this
gray old lady will do.

They'll wheel me and lift me,
back onto the bus,
to the brick nursing home.
I won't make a fuss.

To my spot in the hall
with a smile on my face,
I'll be so very glad,
to be done with this race.

So that's how I see it,
some day when I'm old.
But that's not today,
I have napkins to fold.