Spring Chicken

“You’re not a spring chicken,”
My husband blurts out.
The truth in that statement’s
Beyond any doubt.

My running around’s
Surely taken its toll,
As Nature reminds me
I’m not in control.

For age has its limits
And mine’s reached a peak.
What I do in a day
Should spread over a week.

I try for it all
But my body’s refused.
As I conk on the couch,
There’s my husband – amused!