Laurel Hickmans


Laurel Hickmans


Aaah! Youth thinketh there is no pride left in old age,

Taketh the wrinkled man and find it amuseth him,


What maketh skin to wrinkle?

What maketh eyes to glaze?


My wife before mine eyes becomes a hag.

Ohh! Sweet youth – where art thou?


Is this a grey hair I see before mine eyes?

Ohh! Sweet mercy where rests thee?


Ache no more!

I wish myself would ache no more!


Money worries doth boil and trouble

Servile thoughts rise and bubble.


Mayest I receive a nip and tuck;

Mine eyes once more resemble Puck.


Alas! Poor Laurel, I knew her well

My hope, no love within her swell.


But life becomes an empty stage

The telling years do ravage and rage.


Each day into the mirror I tend to call

‘Once more into the breach dear friend.’


My ancient legs do wobble and bend

My mouth doth slober and cryeth,


‘A horse, a horse’ – my longing for a horse

To ease my life – to straighten my thought


Of how to move and be accepting

Of limitations and count my blessings.


My love is true, my larder full

My legs can, if necessary, bike it

Can, if called upon, hike it.


So there you are dear friends – my interpretation of Shakespeare –

‘As you dislike it’. Term 2, Forster Tuncurry Writers 2013.

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