Light Verse #2

LIGHT VERSE #2

THE AWFUL TRUTH

I am not aging gracefully.
With help, my hair stays brown.
My heels are high. I patronize
The smartest shops in town.

My mirror sometimes does me wrong,
But then, it's old and cracked.
Though some might call my figure plump,
I really think I'm stacked.

It takes a candid three-year-old
To tell me what I am.
He strokes my cheek and sweetly states,
"Your face is wrinkled, Gram."

NOT A MORNING TYPE

They tell me there is grandeur in the dawn.
The day is heralded by vocal birds.
My spouse awakes before the night is gone
And hangs upon some commentator's words.

I burrow deep for one more interlude
Of sleep before the early moments pass,
But as I doze and long for quietude,
My neighbor picks the hour to mow the grass.

The morning sun may be a lovely sight.
Perhaps I'll see it once before I die.
Let others rise and greet the morning light.
For me, just pull the blinds and let me lie.

WOMEN'S LIB REVISITED

It sounded great--the equal checks--
The jobs, the chic careers.
I proudly held my placard high
And joined in all the cheers.

I spent my days and half my nights
Embracing women's lib.
No more would I be classed as a
Subordinated rib.

Amusement from my spouse in time
Became a little wry--
Especially when I asked if he
Would rather wash or dry.

My sons were trained to make their beds.
Their rooms were neatly kept.
At thawing TV dinners they
Quite early were adept.

And all was well until I learned
The ancient wisdom that
Equality was not my goal
The day a tire went flat.

Story ID:	410
Written by:	Wanda Molsberry Bates (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Manhattan KS USA
Year:	1965