Day 18: I’m not following a prompt today. I based his poem on a memory of a grandchild’s candor that still tickles me.
Seven Signs of Aging
Said Little Boy, while sitting in the tub,
What are you doing to your face?
“It’s eyes and throat I rub.
An exercise in futility,
The wrinkles to erase.”
Said Little Boy, with smile all broad and wise,
Better put some round the back.
O my Olay, I write to criticize?
More than seven signs of aging.
A child can tell you that.