I will not write poems any more?
I am getting older now,
I guess that you are too
The knees just will not bend
Like they used to do.
The eyes have varifocals
Inset in thin rimmed frames
With teeth more ceramic than
the natural way they came.
My clothes are not the latest
Which fashion would dictate
My car, it is outdated
With cables for the brake.

With décor which is homely
Not ergonomic in design
I guess it paints a picture of
An old guy in decline?

But watch out;
I warn you
There’s a sparkle in these eyes
And I must betide you
To keep alert for a surprise
I might just creep up behind you
And sound a great big horn
I’ll wear a bright pink bow tie
When you’re hungover in the morn’
My button hole will splash you
And my handshake, it may shock
And when you have a party
I still know how to rock.
I may not play so hard
As in my youthful days
But be sure,
I have not yet lost
My romantic way.
So if you see me on the street
Or cruising on the beach
Just look out and stay alert
For a poet with
A look that tells you straight
He’s not yet closed his book
And is looking for a date.

~~~David Taylor~~~~
20 minutes ago