Middle-aged man

See how he stands, his shoulders back

to compensate for belly,

his head slumped forward on his chest,

his legs as weak as jelly.


Now see him run, his gasping breath

and funny shambling gait,

oh middle-aged man, not fast enough,

that’s why you’re always late.


He’s tired, and now it’s time for bed.

Let’s watch him as he sleeps:

he stirs; he wakes at half past two,

and weeps, and weeps, and weeps.