By Valerie Chernett on Thursday, 18 June 2020
Category: July 2020

Third Age

Oh, to float in that deep hot oily bath,

Perfumed candle,

Glass of wine, and

A long 'Mor' cigarette

Weightless legs

The sanctuary, where no children

Or grandchildren were allowed;

Perfect, perfect peace.

BUT

Now the shower

No place to hang

The aching body

Swinging the towel may tumble the candle

No place for the wine

No more 'Mor'

Everyone knocking at the door.

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