LXV


It’s time to retire to the recliner and ease into retardment.

What a colossal achievement to reach this impotent millstone.


With a creak and a groan, the occasional moan.

Gravity becomes us in all the long places.

No effort required to make monkey faces.

The parts that we know will continue to grow,

And reduce us to tears are the nose and the ears.


Who would a thunk we’d run low on spunk.

Awesome mammaries shrunk and stowed in a trunk.

Relic the thought of yesteryear,

With some wonderful times, the occasional tear.


One busy day that’s a dance and a song

I’ve been searching for my glasses all day long. 

Where have they gone?

Climb into bed.

Hey what’s on top of my head?…..damn….!

How sweet it is!




©  David Girard 12/03/15

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