I'm waiting for sleep in my comfy little bed,
A silken pillow for my heavy little head.
I'm looking at my two perfect little feet,
Laying just beyond my not so little seat.
At the end, in nice little rows,
Stand my ten perfect little toes.
Just above, two bends that each eye sees,
My perfect pair of knobby little knees.
Around each knee, a forest of curly hair,
But the cap is bald, the skin is bare.
Closer still I see, a litttle furry mound,
Donuts ate, now a belly soft and round.
I hope and think it's smaller today,
As four miles I hiked this very last day.
Hoping that soon my tummy flatter be,
As I recall when I was twenty and three.
Nearer I see my middle age chest.
A middle-aged man with middle aged breasts.
Looking closer, little I can see,
Eyes won't track, as cross-eyed be,
I can now only see my nose in its place,
A beak, a peak, in the middle of my face.
Still waiting for sleep, in my comfy little bed,
A silken pillow under my heavy little head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem