21 NOVEMBER 1987, Page 40

In Autumn

He wonders where the time has gone. He's got up now to be quite old — Red-nosed like Rembrandt later on. His spectacles are gold.

His gait is brisk; he stops to glare At motor-bikes; his jests perplex The pretty girls who cut his hair At Linda's unisex.

Companioned by a small white dog, Libidinous sometimes, he greets Young married women as they jog Along the leafy streets.

To gin returning and his wife And lunch — he lunches frugally — Avoiding thoughts about his life He dozes until tea.

Then through french windows he perceives The late October afternoon, The drifts of reddened, ruined leaves And Winter coming soon.

L. K. Lawler