Will I have
to be sexy at sixty?
Will I have to keep trying so hard?
Well I'm just going to slump,
With my dowager's hump
And watch myself turn into lard.
I'm not going to keep exercising,
I'm not going to take HRT,
If a toy boy enquires
I'll say, 'Hah! Hard luck squire!
Where were you in '73!'
going to shave my moustache,
I'm just going to let them all sprout,
My chins'll be double
All covered in stubble,
I'm going to become an Old Trout!
My beauty all gone and forgotten,
Vanished with never a quibble,
I'll sit here and just
Kind of gnaw at a crust
And squint at the telly, and dribble.
As my marbles get steadily fewer,
Must I battle to keep my allure?
Have I still got to pout
Now my teeth have come out
And my husband has found pastures newer?
Farewell to the fad and the fashion,
Farewell to the young and the free!
My passion's expired,
At bedtime....I'm TIRED!
Sexy and sixty? Not me!
(poem by Pam Ayers)