These days the calendar is my nemesis, I'm

At the age where you tend to look back

Bad moves clog the rear-view mirror

Where I might have tried a different tack

 

Of late I'm in a mood for contrition but

Repentance though keen won't amend

The hurts and sorrows I've inflicted for

The stern hand of Time cannot bend

 

Its my turn to feel the lash of regrets

I feel like an old car going to rust

My tyres are flat, the battery is empty

Moth-eaten upholstery all but dust

 

The engine roars not, instead ticking over

In the driving seat I pretend to steer

I try the ignition every now and then

Just to remind myself I'm still here

 

There's no rubber left on the wipers

The windscreen's cracked and dusty

I'm a banger heading for the srap-yard

A far cry from that sports MG so lusty

 

As knobs and switches come off in my hand

And my limbs complain in every joint

The question idles in my grey head

Just what the hell was the point?

 

The hot tears of lovers I encountered

Hover accusingly before my eyes

Turning on the wipers I try to erase them

Along with my well-worn tricks and lies

 

Those I loved I somehow mishandled

There always seemed someone better

Such brute moves now force my own sobs

I burned every reproachful letter

 

Yes, I'm wiser now but its far too late

I wouldn't reprise those mistakes

This front-seat never fitted my build

Almost every bone in my body aches

 

My daughter Kate worries about me

We were reconciled only last year

I'd abandoned her and her mother

She's my nurse now, oh ever so dear

 

I wish I could rewind and go back

Live in hope instead of this blind fear

But the tow-truck is getting closer

And anyway, I've got no reverse gear