You wake up in the morning
Tired from the night before
Because you didn't sleep
The way you used to sleep
In those restful nights of yore
When you were 55.
At breakfast with your Wheaties,
You take your pills all five
Because, they tell you
(i.e., doctors) ,
that's keeping you alive.
(I'm not so sure, but
can I prove them otherwise?)
And on to lunch!
Soup with crackers or without
For that's what having stable weight
Is really all about.
You must have stable weight,
'specially if you're not too fat,
Otherwise, you could have
Your very first heart attack.
And dinner—
You eat your dinner
And feel that inner warmth
you get from that last cup of coffee
and with that glass of wine
you've had, you're really off the
worries of the world,
And on to bed.
you seem very content... thats how i want to be now... and i'm just halfway 82 thanks for sharing, kay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love it Fred. Mind you, it ain't that different at 37, except for that irritating job bit in between times, and the fact that a glass of wine magically becomes a bottle. t x