I Want to Hold Your Hand.

The music of our youth plays

as we 60-somethings –

and then some –

squat and lunge,

walk on the spot,

step forward, then back.  

No arms above the shoulder

for the cardios.

 

I remember swiping

the demon fast bowler

for successive fours

before being clean-bowled.

A 400-yard relay

when no one overtook me.

The hat-trick

I scored before half-time.

(We lost 10-4).

 

Now even walking feels

a chore. That fall

in the street.

Don’t try and keep up

with the music, or with

the person next to you

if you don’t feel you can!

But Day Tripper.

And Ike and Tina Turner.

 

Those moments of glory.

An 80-something lady

makes my day, recalls

something my father

used to say.

The half-a-crown side.

I haven’t heard that in years,

not since he died.

Another class ends.

 

And we’re all still here!