[Brian Allgar]

In dreams, I gallop over empty plains,
A stallion, swift and free; and every day,
With willing mares I have my end away
(No bed-clothes, so no fear of tell-tale stains).
Unfettered, lusty, wild, no aches and pains
This springtime of my life, this month of May,
No duties, obligations, only play
(And sex, of course), whether it shines or rains.

But morning comes, and all exuberance leaves.
I’m old; at best, I'll see a few more suns.
The wheat for burger buns stands there in sheaves;
The mincer’s ready. Still, I hold my breath:
The butcher has a bad case of the runs -
It’s all that’s keeping me from certain death.