It’s too hard
When times are boring and quiet,
To find pleasure in salad
Or stick to an uninspiring January diet,
Impossible to stay dry
When it’s too cold to think,
And the only thing that’ll give comfort
Is to consume stodge and to drink,
Resolutions evaporate
In the blink of a feeble eye,
With the aroma of a heart warming stew
Or difficult to resist, hot apple pie,
Rocky is the road and sticky is the toffee
That will scupper our intentions to become slim,
Unrealistic is the goal and inevitable the knowledge
That come month end,
We’ll have all given up and given in!
Diane Scantlebury
