Poem #6 – 10th March 2014

Monday morning at the gym,

 a conscience-easing calm for retirees.

A chat whilst on the cycles

with no fear of looming lorries,

neither headwinds nor any heart-arresting hills.

The thrills of rolling treadmills

with a TV screen to view;

cross-trainers are no-brainers just for  walking.

The attraction of the place is one can lounge around in shorts

 and pass an hour or two by simply talking.

But that can leave you breathless –so a brisk shower is essential

with as much hot water as you need on tap.

A cup of tea and maybe just one biscuit for the carbs

and then it’s home to have a little nap.

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