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A short poem on how it feels to be on the verge of turning 50!

Where once you'd soak in the bath
Ready for a night on the town
Now it's your dentures that soak
Clinking in a glass in a macabre frown

The perfume and the make-up
Have taken second place
To ointment for piles, denture cleaner and fixative
To keep a smile on your face

The sexy lace underwear
Has been replaced by something more discreet
The black stockings and suspenders are long gone
Now it's thermal tights and furry slippers on your feet

What wakes you in the early hours now
Is not your lovers touch
It's the overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom
Which for the third time is really far too much

You stare in the mirror and shake your head
Knowing everything is still fine
After all you are still young at heart
You're only forty-nine!!