To my wife

Darling I am getting older
Side-burns turning silver grey
So rest your head upon my shoulder
Tell me that they’re distingués

Darling I am getting balder.
Freezing on my shiny pate
More and more I’m feeling colder
Where flies disport themselves and skate.

Darling I am getting fatter,
Not gravitas but rather paunch,
No euphemism, and no flatter,
Greater wisdom and less lunch.

In your company I always find
Beauty, friendship and delight.
We’re not old within my mind.
We’ll not go gently to the night.


© S.N.Solomons Sunday, 21 August 2005

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