When you get to be a certain age
And can no longer feel your rib cage
You cannot fit in the pants of teens
It's time to buy the dreaded mom jeans
You'll have to give up some fashion taste
When you take on an elastic waist
And you're sure to resemble grandma
With pants that start just under your bra
But they will understand your lingo
When you wear your new pants to Bingo
YOU ARE READING
Park Bench Poetry
PoetryTake a leisurely stroll through the park, sit on a bench facing the pond, and watch the ducks frolicking around the fountain. A woodpecker taps at a weeping willow, and a great blue heron takes flight from a small island in the pond. In these peacef...