Tag Archives: middle age

Old Time

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On hearing my clock chime
I think on Father Time.
I touch my grey hair
And wish for a woman ere
My ageing clock does finally stop
Ending time and my passing rhyme

My Hair is Thinning

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My hair is thinning.
I drink and think
On sinning with women.
And, as I drink
I ponder on
Where my hair
Has upped and gone!

I Must Confess

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I must confess
That I obsess
On autumn leaves.

The trees
Are bare.

My hair
Has turned grey.

I could dye.
But each man’s day
Must end. my friend

50

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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.

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

Much Has Been Sung

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Much has been sung

Of women young

And middle-aged men who knew

Better, yet themselves flung

At the feet

Of maidens far from discreet …

 

So when I meet

Girls with high-heeled feet

I think with delight

Of the hot night,

Then sigh for that can not be,

For I am growing old you see …

 

They Say that When Policemen Look Young

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They say
That when policemen look young, you are getting old.
I was told
By a lady yesterday,
In a conversational way
That she was born
In the year
I came to old London town
To work.
A jerk
Of recognition within.
Hopes abandoned
There will be no sin …

It Is Summer Yet

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It is summer yet
The leaves can still be found
Strewing the ground.
Shall I regret
The gray hair
Where
There remains no trace of brown?

The longest day of the year
Will soon be here
Ere Autumn throws
Her clothes
All haphazard down.

I shall in beauty drown
For our little moon
Is gone too soon
While nature’s store
Remains as before.

 

I am Told

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I am told
That one is getting old
When policemen look younger than you.
I’m sure that’s true
But when girls say
In a friendly sort of way
That their dad has the same interests as you,
Then what is a guy to do
Other than smile and accept
That age
Has crept
Up on him like a thief in the bleak night
And that although he may, in the company of young women delight
He must
For the purposes of love or lust
Engage with women of a similar age
As no
Young ladies desire
A grey haired sire.
But oh!
If he have money it may be so …!