LACK OF WILL by Dave Wellings

Shall you compare me to a summer's day ?
Not if you intend to be kind.
Comparisons are odious, they say,
So skip that one, if you don't mind,
Too many summers have gone under the bridge,
I've passed too much water too often,
I often forget why I went to the fridge:
My brain is beginning to soften.
An autumn day might be nearer the truth,
A day that was misty and cold.
It's hard to remember the spring of your youth
When you become grumpy and old.
Thanks - but no thanks for flattering sentiments:
Now is the winter of my incontinence.

Dave Wellings, Clifton. ©