Getting older

My eyebrows grow unruly
It really will not do
Should I pluck them? Should I strim them?
Or leave them all askew

Where once there was a six pack
A Party- Seven sits
I don’t want to have to exercise
This really is the pits

My legs have become skinny
My hair is just as thin
Should I rail against the dying light
Or take it on the chin?

I never was a looker
It just seems so unfair
To see reflected in the mirror
The signs of wear and tear

My wife says that she loves me
Even though I’m growing old
She married the man inside, she says,
And not a centrefold

It should make me feel better
Instead I’m feeling sad
That the person looking back at me
Looks so much like my Dad.