Not far off 50

If, as they say, at 50 each man owns

the face that he deserves, a mirror of

his every kind act and his meaner ones,

the bitter hurts that he’s received, and love,

the pleasures and the pains his body’s known,

all that he’s given to and feels owed by the world,

the sum of all the good and harm he’s done,

his fear of growing up or growing old,

his firm belief that being honest pays,

his tendency, in spite of that, to perjury,

then I have just 12 months and seven days

to turn things round. Or book cosmetic surgery.