BEASTLY TALES

OSCAR’S MIRROR

Oscar felt more than just a little uncouth,
Following the passing of the bloom of youth.
Such a thing does happen to all,
How the mighty, yes, they do fall.
Oscar’s good lady, Priscilla Plunket,
Believed in the healing power of junket.
But, never-the-less, her youth’s bloom did exhume,
The junket did not work, she did presume.

Looking at a photo album with those who are older,
Does nothing to make one feel any bolder.
One sees pictures of those same folk when they were young.
Radiantly full-faced, flush with hope that sprung
From having ahead so many years of youth’s might,
Until, with time’s passing, there are the years of no delight.
Yes, that period when you finally realize,
That life’s treadmill has brought you down to size!

Oscar Plunket was now bald and fat,
And not only a nude nut with no hat,
But he had hair springing up from ears and nose,
Along with wrinkles on skin, yes, anything goes.
Oscar supposed it was to do with the breeding stage,
Being young and attractive is all the rage.
But, progressively, we do reach those twilight years.
Along with those of our surviving peers.
Some, of course, do not accept nature’s course,
Inclined to, figuratively, flog a dead horse,
And so with pills, potions and creams they do cram,
To become, again figuratively, mutton dressed up as lamb.

Growing old gracefully is a sensible notion,
Accepting the reality, but enjoying the motion,
As the juggernaut of life rockets along,
All the while singing, yes, even tide’s song.

Oscar Plunket was watching T.V.
So many film flash backs he did see,
Of older famous folk, back in their youth.
They almost seemed different people, vivacious aloof.
Oscar looked in the mirror, seeing his image,
He looked as though he’d been in many a scrimmage.
Thought he, there is the once great Oscar Plunket,
Definitely in need of so much more junket!