Yesterday afternoon I watched an old man walking in the park pushing a three-wheeled walking-aid. It looked just as if he was mowing grass. Later on he could be seen walking back towards his home. I was impressed by his vigour, as during that whole time I’d not moved from my deckchair.

Every morning Grandpa goes for a walk,
gives him exercise, chance for a talk,
to others who’re taking their constitution,
an aged no-gym pensioner solution.

He pushes his three wheeler, he calls his lawnmower,
doesn’t need emptying, but gives him a blower,
when he gets back, with colourful cheeks,
he brews a cuppa, not felt better for weeks.

We mustn’t joke or laugh at his gait,
for we’ll soon be his age, not long to wait,
and if I reach ninety, heaven knows how,
I hope I’m as fit as he is now!

© Baldock Bard 2015
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