I sank like a stone 
Into the still, deep waters of late middle age, 
Aching from head to foot.
 
I took up food 
And gave up exercise. 
It did me good.
 
And while he slept, 
I found some hobbies for myself. 
Painting. Seeing the sights I’d always dreamed about:  

The Leaning Tower. 
The Pyramids. The Taj Mahal. 
I made a little watercolour of them all.
 
But what was best, 
What hands-down beat the rest, 
Was saying a none-too-fond farewell to sex.
 
Until the day 
I came home with this pastel of Niagara 
And he was sitting up in bed rattling Viagra.