The Geezer’s Lament
Four score and more can be a drag.
by Chuck Toll
I’ve watched my face in mirrors sag.
My fiber diet makes me gag.
Alas, my tail has lost its wag.
When I was young my abs were cut
And girls all liked my shapely butt.
Alas, my girth so broad has got
When playing golf I only putt.
It used to be that I could drink
A half a bottle in a blink.
Now two shots take me to the brink
Where I can neither walk nor think.
In manly skills I once felt certain.
Mondays found me spent and hurtin’.
Then John Thomas drew the curtain;
I’m now reduced to merely flirtin’.
When we bought, the price was right.
Our house was sturdy and build tight,
But now with bedrooms up a flight
The sofa is my bunk at night.
Seems I’ve misplaced my senses five.
My reflex time is in a dive,
So mostly I no longer drive.
(I’d like to reach the grave alive.)
Despite the mounting evidence
Do not assign me to past tense.
I’ve lost my supple, not my sense
(unlike some recent presidents) .
I’m much relieved that I’m retired.
I may get bored but can’t be fired.
No boss, by bottom line inspired,
Outsourcing me to foreign hired.
And though our amorous nights are done,
My wife still calls me honeybun;
Old friends despite their aches stay fun
Though most weigh in at half a ton.
I’ve got a nice routine, and happily
See kids and grandkids frequently.
(But gameboy screens they show to me
To put it simply, I can’t see!)