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.