The Decent Thing (Poetry)

This is what it’s come to —
nothing graceful or serene
but gathered here resentful thoughts
on things that might have been

A remorseless lack of jolly
clinging to one empty date
plus a crushing weight of numbers
prove it’s all too bloody late

To squeeze one drop of wisdom
from the years piled up behind
pain defeats imagination
it so-cripples heart and mind

There’s been far too many birthdays
for my body to survive
it’s a crazy contradiction
but stubborn hope remains alive

Having pondered on life’s small print
and worked the whole conundrum through
there’s little choice but suffer quietly —
it’s the decent thing to do