It appears the poetry muse is back

Oh woe is me, obese me!
I know, it’s just a wobble.
This grizzling grown woe he,
I groan, I moan, I hobble.
Stiff soreness, new aches, new pains,
Too overweight; I gobble.
Energy waxes and wanes,
‘Not enough’ brain’s at the core;
All good intent to nobble.
I groan and drone on some more.

Drag my ragbag ailments out.
Spring air’s chilly for my toes
Is this a symptom of gout?
Need socks with thongs to warm those,
Believed ne’er the twain shall meet.
Once airs and graces to show
Now putting right on’s a feat.
Sat while ironing clothes today,
Stand to shower, shave’s too long
First time for all, so they say.

Spirit’s lifted. Quite enough
Of this meandering verse
Boring readers, they could puff
And drop dead, call the hearse!