Pulling myself out of the bed
To pee again, something I dread
I’d rather be sleeping instead
Or I could just wet the bed.
Look in the mirror to check what needs shaving
Hoping fingers with razor will be behaving
I don’t want the blade to start engraving
Till blood starts running and raving.
Then there’s dressing, always a treat
Groaning to put socks and shoes on my feet
Stretching on layers smoothed to look neat
Pulling on and tucking in trousers a feat.
Finally finished, its time for a drink
Or breakfast, that’s what most people think
I prefer coffee—makes my eyes start to blink
Then into my recliner I sink.
Morning routines seem to be the way
Doing it over and over each day
Keeps unforeseen accidents at bay
When hair turns relentlessly gray.
Old age comes to us all they say:
“if you’re lucky” or “better than the alternative” way.
Those words spoken cause some dismay
Cause it’s always the young speaking that bray.