Past My Sell By Date. Poem by John Wathen

I think I'm past my sell by date,
I've been taken off display,
and put on the shelf as cheap goods,
marked down for final day.
I know I'm bruised and battered,
and I don't taste quite as good,
but I don't think it really matters,
at least I don't think it should.
I know that I'm not young and fresh
and I've put on a bit of weight,
but shelf life is for seventy years,
and I'm only fifty eight.
So if you are looking for a good deal
some one who won't let you down,
look in the bargain bucket,
for the best sale in the town.