Old Vincent’s bookish, and he knows
His English Lit, both verse and prose.
The poet Auden he rates highly -
Though sometimes, Vincent comments drily,
He’s too dogmatic for his theme.
For instance: Sex is but a dream
Auden wrote this, the records tell,
When aged no more than fifty-five,
And sadly never did survive,
(Having died a wreck at sixty-six)
To try for septuagenarian kicks.
Vince, who was seventy-four last week,
Assures us prospects aren’t that bleak,
And from experience wants to say
‘Yes, I do dream of yesterday
With fondness of recalled delight -
But I look forward to tonight!’
And then he adds: ‘I’ll tell you what -
If love’s competitive, which it is not,
I think I’d hold my own against mere whelps.
Mind you – Viagra helps.’
If you have any thoughts on this poem, George Simmers
would be pleased to hear them.