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On Growing Old

A Poem by:

Anthony Bavin

Colourful Bar


Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.

I'm sorry I don't seem to want to **** you any more,

But I still LOVE your homebaked apple pie.

Whilst it was always loin and groin and sweaty thighs before,

Now love's manifest in telly suppers; whilst we ignore

Jokes about 'Wrinklies' with that tolerance that you and I

Have gained from having "been there, done that (got the T-shirt)" -

and learning to endure

Increasingly creaky joints, the wrinkled skin and gnarled hands,

From remembering not to pee uphill; and just lasting, by

Not drinking too much coffee before a long journey, and

Together, clinging to the wreckage, knowing that the sands

Of time mean that, now, through the long night, wide awake we lie

Regretting pigging all that pudding ("Pass the cream jug") - that

homebaked apple pie!


Anthony Bavin
Copyright © 1999

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