When a man reaches 45 he starts to feel contented,
he begins to enjoy the things he once strongly resented,
like having his own armchair parked near the fire,
slipperson, feet up, is now his hearts desire.
He NOW loves his wifes cooking, even her toast,
his favourate is definitlythe wifes Sunday roast,
noticing he's overweight he'll painfully admit
walking the dog is the best way to keep fit.
He's given up having nights out with the boys,
no longer craves dolly birds to be his toys,
his wild days he's tucked away in the past
and he freely admits he's settled at last.
Because he now knows he cant take the worry
he does everything in less of a hurry.
Now he is preparing to escape the rat-race
and is looking forward to life at a much slower pace.
Gone is his fancy for having a wild fling,
he finally realises at Home he's got EVERYTHING
his ambition now is to carefully Invest
for the GoldenYears of Old Age when he can rest.......
really a good logic you presented in this poem... agree with your idea... perfectly done... miss your poems and words... and and your commitments.. respect you
Hi Barbie
I love this poem! Beautiful job!
Greetings from Down Under
Donkerman
Great poem...I love your style!!!