Blog twenty two: A poem – #BirthdayBlues

So yesterday, Sunday – 16th September, was my birthday. So I wrote a poem about getting another year older – this is a true story, honest!

#Birthday blues

On this day in the 1960’s
I was born.
On this day last year
for a wind up,
my wife presented me
with Anti-Aging Cream for Men
Ironic? Mocking?
Perhaps useful?

‘Thought you could do with this,
become Peter Pan’,
she sarcastically said,
suppressing a snigger,
which was given away by the hilarity
in her laughter lines,
which heightened the brilliance
of her those dazzling blues eyes,
that I am a sucker for and
that forever and always dupe me
and discover different ways
to get the better of me.

I forced ‘thank you my darling’
through my clamped shut mouth
and firmly clenched teeth (still my own),
and decided to let her off the hook.
But hey,
I thought,
I’ll have a tinker.
And I used the cream.
Every morning after my shave
and steaming shower (and the other of the s’s).
And even some evenings
before Horlicks, bonk, book and bed.
And I don’t mind admitting
that it felt good,
I felt better!

Today I woke up
I did my standard, daily three s’s
and I used the cream again,
and I looked in the mirror
and I did the math.
I worked it out, the bloody stuff hasn’t worked.
I am now 52.
I have emailed and tweeted
the maker with a complaint.

     “This ointment, this lotion
     of irony, has me in a dated dither.
     It is devoid of mockery
     or even of use, I feel like Smee
    crying real crocodile tears.
    Yours sincerely
    sad and somewhat older
    from Sussex.