Finding va-va-voom in the golden years

Alas, there is no room for doubt, No doubt, however small. I’m not the girl I used to be, No, not the same at all. The passing years have left their mark, A harsh and cruel deed, And everything’s gone south, my dears, With quite surprising speed. The eyesight’s rather misty, I’ve cotton-woolly ears, And only oil infusions Allow me to change gears. But don’t think I’m complaining, It’s not all doom and gloom, For there are compensations To replace the va-va-voom. For now I’ve reached this vantage point I’ve come to understand Those castles which we strive to build Are fashioned out of sand. That arguments have many sides And I’m not always right, That piggies do not fly, but when The moon is blue . . . they might! It’s no use planting seeds, unless I nurture them to grow, And as time can’t be beaten It’s best to join the flow. So, though I’m quite moth-eaten On the parts that you can see, Inside I’m feeling shiny And that’s good enough for me. Tricia Sturgeon, Mundesley, Norfolk.