Tag Archives: ageing

Their Time in the Sun

They have fun
In the sun.
Their perfect
Bodies reject
The fact that they
Will grow old.
Where I to be bold
And say,
“All this will pass
Lad and lass would laugh.
Though, perhaps a thoughtful few
Would say
“That’s true.
But we must
Enjoy our day
Ere we are dust”.
And I would nod,
And go away.


Its my birthday today.
I shall walk in the wood
And maybe see
A nymph.
But, if so,
I shall be good!

I shall go to the pub
And delight
In the company of companions dear,
As we sit near
To the open fire.

I am 51.
Over half a century has passed.
Tonight I shall raise a glass
And wonder where the time
Has gone,
And be glad
That I have
Friends, and rhyme.


50. Soon to be 51.
The year
Is here
And soon gone.

I cough in the early morning.
A warning?
Probably not,
But soon the year will be gone
And I shall reach the age of 51,
How many more have I got?

Young women
Will still
Laugh at my humour,
But grinning
Is not sinning
And ’tis no rumour
That I grow old.

May, they say
Much more than a smile
From a pretty maid
But the eye
Of lust
Must turn to dust
Once our part is played.


I wake
And feel an ache
In my bones.
I must
Engage with cramp
For age
Has left a stamp
On me
And dust
Hides in corners.

You may
Clear the dust away
But ’tis a never ending task
Which, at last
Will defeat
The best of men.
And the ache reminds thee
And me
That, in the end
The dust will win, my friend

He Longed for Girls in High-Heels

He longed for girls in high-heels,
With soft,
Perfect skin.
But the devil coughed
And reminded him
That he was growing old
And that he had sold
His soul
For lust
To girls in high-heels
Who love gold,
Which crumbles into dust

Roses I May Not Pick, Tempt

Roses I may not pick, tempt
With their sweet
The peach,
Out of reach
I may not eat
For mine
Has passed its best.
But, in time
All things must rest.
The hour
Of the flower
And peach, is brief,
And all must, one day cease

Eternal Youth

‘Tis a truth
That eternal youth
Can not be found
By middle-aged men who pursue
Girls of 20,
(But there are plenty
Who do).

The run
May be fun
And rings
And other such things
May a man buy
More than a look
From a young girl’s eye,
Which is sometimes mistook
By the old
For love.

Nothing comes after
Her brittle laughter
Save for more
Of the same, but the fool will not be told
The truth,
That with all his gold
He can not purchase eternal youth,
Though some already this fact
But act
As though
It where not so
And continue to buy
Forced laughter
After each joke
On which they both, secretly, choke.