The Truth - Poem by Michael. fanniesson
One doesn’t become more beautiful with age.
The wife and I both pushing sixty now,
are sure of this one!
Yeah I know what they say.
“It's the new forty”.
But that's just Madison Avenue feeding us
a line, so we’ll buy their clothes and cars.
Do things we’ll look like jerks doing,
trying to recapture our youth!
No one gets better looking with age.
I wouldn’t look at me, bopping down
the street now the way I did at eighteen.
Wearing a wife beater tee shirt, biceps bulging.
Nor wait for the old lady to pass by.
So I could check out her rear.
Her front telling me now,
everything I need to know.
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