In the Prose of Passion

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 Fifty Years
Fifty Years

Fifty years and running
As if I were a child
Old age is becoming
A reason to act wild
My bladder seems so small
Not like it was before
One drink and then I fall
And end up on the floor
The hair I used to have
Seems a little scarce
With piles on my bed
My head it seems so bare
I'm back to wearing diapers
I like the fluffy kind
My wife she is my wiper
The best I'll ever find
I'm getting the same service
As when I was a child
But now the only difference
Is that I'm now senile

Copyright ©2006 Marvin H Lane


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