Reflections

An image of someone who must be me
catches my glance and quickly looks away,
gathers itself, then surreptitiously
sneaks a fresh peek with eyes that seem to say -

"Where is the stripling youth who ran 10 K
in under 38 at Tewkesbury?
The legs are fine, but can that gut portray
an image of someone who must be me?"

"Just wait till I'm in training then you'll see
it's all still there . ." "Yeah, that'll be the day!"
There's something nasty in the way that he
catches my glance and quickly looks away.

But what the heck, at least I'm not going grey,
nor is my middle-aged virility
viagra sponsored. (Here my rédoublé
gathers itself, then surreptitiously

checks he can say the same). Surprisingly
he can and does. It's easy to allay
reflected fears. His momentary glee
sneaks a fresh peek with eyes that seem to say

"Let's make a deal - though devil time will play
his mocking games, I'll not pretend to be
shocked by the change. Now, will you please convey
your carcass out of sight, so setting free
an image?"

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