Time waits for no man,
Or so I am told-
The subtext suggesting we’ll all grow old
If we are lucky enough to survive
The multiple rigours of modern life
The chaps with the challenge of baldness and worse
And women, outcomes equally tough to reverse
While from this fragile inevitability
Emerges an entire industry
To propagate ideas of eternal youth,
If you think about it, an unfeasible truth
Given that time stands still for none-
From the very first moment we’re each begun,
Milestones, trials and tribulations
The underpinnings of every great nation.
So how then this misaligned disposition
With Youth and Age in direct competition?
Co-dependence overlooked
In fevered pursuit of flawless good looks
The kind that would place potential lovers
In fear of what may per chance be discovered
Should things progress with intimacy
And artifice, like onion skins, peel away.
Caught between confidence and battle dress,
The judgement call to circumvent distress…
To plan ahead a little contrived,
But, hey!- we all need a way to survive
And if it’s true that on the whole,
The eyes are the windows of one’s soul*
There’s really not much room for manoeuvre
Though always best
To be seen
To have hoovered…*



In order of appearance…

* I have long held the view that the relationship we have with ourselves in the most important one of all- and arguably, the hardest to maintain

*My dad quoted this phrase often when we were kids…(!)-attributing it to Shakespeare.

*My mum taught me (by passive acquisition) that it’s only ever worth doing housework when expecting visitors…


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