It is said life begins at forty,
Now I am forty-one.
While many others have given up,
My quest has just begun.
The quest is never smooth,
it is very often rough.
Going up is sometimes easy,
coming down is tough.
I’m looking for a battle,
not a small time fight,
Success is doubly assured,
if I get my method right.
Eye share, mind share, heart share,
That is the strategy.
The path sometimes leads astray,
At times the joy of victory.
It sometimes is a battle to kill,
At other times is knotty,
Is the enemy a master, of skills?
Or is he plain batty?
This is no boyhood street battle,
Where all is muscle and brawn.
The fight is not over cattle,
But to wear the kingly crown.
My day begins at five, sometimes four and thirty,
Husband to a mother of two, family concerns over morning tea.
A complete non-smoker, who quit 12 years ago,
At heart a teetotaler, barring the annual drink or two.
Sometimes the question does arise
Past forty what can you do?
The goals have changed; there is no prize,
Are you game to begin anew?
Well my step is spring, my voice does ring,
My heart is tough; mind clear,
My reach is long, my grasp is strong,
My grip is firm and sure.
I am ready for battle; I want a war to win,
I surely can fight to finish; involving stealth and cunning.
Am I a visionary statesman or a tin pot dictator?
The only way to find out is play, not just be a spectator.
I surely am no hero, with hangers on day and night,
Be it success or failure, I’m the last to switch off the lights,
Kipling’s “run of sixty seconds are my sixty seconds too”,
I count my blessings with an oft-read quote from “anon”, the last lines two
“Life's battles don't always go to the stronger or the faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins, is the man who thinks he can”.