Mine curdles, my life,
My plans of wealth and success, scuppered
By cans of beer, of excess
I’ve faltered.

Where once ideas and ideals stood solemn,
The column has fallen, or is maybe just leaning
Allowing for compromises and alterations,
A heart bent on large rooms relents to
An apartment. Age looms.

I once vowed to stay young, to be Peter Pan -
A petered plan. Now old before my time,
Twenty eight, the new forty eight,
Fine lines and a tired mind. I resolve
I will go to the gym, I will walk, I will cycle,
I will eat better, I will drink less, I will rehab.
I devolve
The thought of the aches from my muscles
Gym? Walk? Cycle? Sorrow!
I pour a glass. I’ll start tomorrow.