TWO MORNING THOUGHTS

I quiver my liver is shocked to the core,

its queasy, uneasy, not young any more,

I'm soon on the brink,because of the drink,

my body is leaving its usual sync.

"Saluti, saluti," and cheers in the day,

"Cheers" and "Good health" in the night,

with friends at the pub I feel gay,

but loose my invincible sight.

Next day I'm not well I'm sorry to tell,

mistaking my pillow for my head,

no longer in heaven but rather in hell,

so lie there instead in my bed.

Oh why do I do it, and do it and do it,

no stopping to recount the cost,

this time it is serious, I blew it, 

so change is becoming a must.

No need for the liquor when having fun,

relax and just be your good self,

brave it out or you'll be on the run,

and find yourself on the shelf.

**      **         **         **         **        **

OLD AGE ROSES

Old age is not a bed of roses

the potpourri of life fades, its colours 

change the textures roughen, wrinkles bends, 

and we descend a little bit towards the ground,

where aches and pains begin in muscles taught,

things just aren't what they ought to be.

Those colours, each they represent experience, 

each one has taken its toll or given joy,

some to meditate on when we're less able, 

others to ignore or hide from usage any more.

Its hard to think of feeling good and young again,

when this and that is going wrong, but then

we stoically stand the race

at a new less flustered pace, and realise

that all is now a different life to live, to savour and enjoy,

and if we persevere we can relax into another kind of happiness,

in simplicity its grace, and finally 

find a modicum of peace.