Stormy, obdurate emotions,
hypochondriacal notions,
pustules, piles,
prescriptions, potions,
pills and epidermal lotions,
doctors’ visits, well-man check-ups,
flatulence and heartburn, hiccups.
Dishevelled clothing, three-day stubble,
to smarten-up’s just too much trouble.
No more the shout, “Make mine a double!”
this erstwhile sparkling wine has lost its bubbles.
Oh, he’d retrieve them if he could,
but they’re reserved for younger blood,
there’s no regaining champagne’s fizz,
so he accepts life as it is:
the golden days have gone for good,
this ennui is here to stay,
a one-time bold old dog has had his day.