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A little bit wiser
a little bit bolder
a little bit greyer
a little bit older.

Slightly less hair
slightly less huff
slightly more patience
slightly more puff.

A touch less panic
a touch less worry
a touch more thoughtful
a touch less hurry.

Another pill
a bit more weight
a bit more skill
a lot less hate.

Body Parts

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Body Parts

With a foot in my mouth
and a heart on my sleeve,
I'm a mixed-up old man
like you would not believe.
I have brains in my pants
and a chip on my shoulder,
life gets much harder
as teeth get much older.
And they're in a jar
behind the settee,
why can't body parts
remain where they should be?

Growing older

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Growing older

I hate this growing older,
my childhood sweetheart said.
Listen girl, I told her,
If we didn't, we'd be dead.

The laconic man

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The laconic man

I tend to laconic,
my love life platonic,
quotidian, run of the mill.
There's nothing exciting.
no shouting or fighting,
a once-was that's over the hill.

The passion is sagging,
I look like old lagging
when naked, a horrible sight.
Without my new dentures
my foodie adventures,
restricted to suck and not bite.

I still think I'm forty
and try to be naughty
but these days, it's all in the mind.
My memory's so shot
that as likely as not,
I lose twice as much as I find.

Invited to dinner,
I'm on to a winner
I'll grin and just nod at the host.
Get away with the wrong fork,
no need to make small talk;
ignore me, I'm deaf as a post.

A rabbit’s habits

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A rabbit's habits

A rabbit cohabits
From sociable habits,
Producing her young by the score.
And when she is old
Then her partner is told
Not tonight bunny, I'm sore.

Lost time

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Lost time

They say that
time's a healer;
well, I am
it might work
for the youngsters
but time is
killing me!


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As I transition
from mid-life crisis
to the gentle senility
of old age,
I find myself
profound questions;
what is
the real
meaning of life
and have 
I eaten
my lunch yet.
Sadly, both
are equally difficult
to answer.

Seasons of life

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Seasons of life

It’s fashion, it’s passion,
it’s sporting, it’s courting,
it’s all about falling in love.
It’s sowing, it’s growing
and yearning and learning
what it means to walk loved hand in glove.

It’s exploring, deploring,
it’s hoping and coping,
it’s having some muscles to flex.
It’s exciting, inviting,
it’s all new and all you,
the very invention of sex.

It’s working, some shirking,
ambition, fruition,
a bit, to be honest, yes guv.
It’s slippage, it’s marriage,
it’s squadrons of children,
it’s learning the meaning of love.

It’s romantic and frantic,
energetic and hectic,
the busiest time of our life.
It’s stations, vacations,
promotion, devotion
and knowing you’ve found the right wife.

It’s grown kids and grandkids,
retirements and virements,
a warm, fluffy socks kind of love.
It’s possessions, impressions,
it’s cynical, clinical,
the need for a bit of a shove.

It’s grilling, it’s chilling,
it’s box sets and twin sets,
a chance for the world to slow down.
It is cocoa and go-slow,
it’s white hair, -where? -right there,
a stroll down the quiet side of town.

It’s aching and shaking,
it’s fresh ills and more pills,
above all a chance for reflection.
It’s objective perspective,
it’s welcome and wisdom,
a counting of blessings collection.

It is Lord Above love,
it is last minute faith,
thanks given for each shallow breath.
It’s tearful and cheerful,
it’s goodbyes and don’t cries,
Then finally, my friend, it is death.


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I dreamed I was asleep
but clearly was mistaken,
as I showered in my undies,
I could smell the care home's bacon.

A woman with a badge on
was washing off my bottom,
I wish I was asleep,
my life right now is rotten.


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Whilst I'm usually okay
in the skin I am in,
I sometimes reflect
on the years I was thin.
When I had my own teeth
and I still had some hair,
my memory was good,
I could quote from Voltaire.

Many winters older
and folk look at me
like I'm stuck to their shoe
or I fell from a tree.
I am pleased that my missus
has aged a bit too,
I'm the house red
and she's the grand cru.
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