The end of year it hurtles fast
Eleven months have all but passed
How was this allowed to occur?
My head has made a request to defer
To next year after a break in transmission
A sorely needed intermission
For my brain has gone on holiday
I cannot process any more today
Decisions, plans, not for now
I haven’t got the slightest how
Yet more than that I have a fear
For weeks I’ll not get past first gear
Used up my year’s mental quota amount
So it’s auto-pilot ’til I recharge my account
Once more comes out the Christmas wrap
And I’m a sentimental sap
As farewells and lasts are piling up;
Goodbye, goodbye and best of luck
There’s moves afoot for everyone
Time’s passage slows for no one
Had a birthday, I thought not long ago…
But better than I, the calendar knows
I shake my head in disbelief;
At this rate I’ll be fifty next week!
The kids aren’t babies any more
The trike and high chair went out the door
I awoke this morn to a small face in pout
She was trying to rub my forehead lines out
I wish I were joking but that’s actually true
And blast it I’ve found my first greys too!
For next year, better things I’m wishing,
But right now, the sign says: “Not here, gone fishing”.