As I celebrate each birthday, it seems I’m doing more and more,
Gifts of jigsaws and acrylics gather dust as I’m never in the door.
‘Poem for October’ deadline now nigh and still no contribution,
Of what was mooted several weeks ago as my firm resolution.
To submit a piece on ageing gracefully but eh, that’s not my style,
If you want to hear of crocheting you’ll be waiting quite a while.
I must confess, at the start of this month, I felt my years of 72,
As I tramped through Budapest; marvelling at the riverside view.
Travelled on to Vienna; where monuments are so splendiferous,
Home with aching hips, swollen legs and feet the tender-most.
But a full diary for gold-laden autumn gives no room for rests,
Time for that in my winter-years when I’ve achieved my quests.