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Poem

It isn't that often as time marches on
that my glad rags come out for a 'do',
more funerals now, each year more friends have gone,
and no births to welcome someone new.
But a forthcoming bash meant I should cut a dash
with some formal wear brought from retirement,
a jacket, single breasted , years past I invested,
it seemed to match my dress requirement.
With a shirt crisp and white, shoes, trousers black as night
and a tie, subtle shades of pale blue,
and the time came to leave, pushed my arms in my sleeves
but something was amiss, I just knew.
This didn't feel right, shoulders felt that bit tight
cuffs were far from my wrists as I looked,
and a mirror can't lie I could now see that I
looked quite like a baloney, half cooked.
I bent forwards and shrugged, both my shoulders I hugged
stomach in, and breathed out, shrank my chest,
the lapels wouldn't meet, I admitted defeat
it's a fact- my East wouldn't meet West.
Passing years and good living had not been forgiving
and although I picked clothes with good taste
maybe had been too proud, but my clothes weren't allowed
to keep up with the change round my waist.
No cursing and no shouts, so I still sauntered out
it annoyed me that I'd dropped a clanger,
ensemble concluded, it visually alluded
to an airship just leaving it's hangar.

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