Locker Room
Preening women
Lined at the mirror
Makeup strewn about
Impatience flares
I just want
My spot at the beauty trough
Finally my turn
A quick blow, a quick comb
I've done all I can
Ah presbyopia!
No glasses? No problem
No gray hairs, no wrinkles
Kate Markey
1 comment:
Kate,
I love this poem. Are you tired of hearing that I love everything you do? It just makes me chuckle.
Post a Comment