Well it’s verse not poetry but never mind!
The Bus Pass
I’ve got myself a wheelie bag
bought granny pants and vests
accepted that my hair is grey
and started taking rests.
My smile’s benign when people call
but the chain is on the door
although they tell you God’s about
I cannot be too sure.
My baby-sitting list is long
so I won’t have the time
to watch the box or sew and knit
but that will suit me fine.
I’ll get my fish on Tuesdays,
it’s cheap on pension day
I won’t bother with the housework
because no one comes to stay.
I’ll ride along the coastline
with my free pass for the bus
drink and smoke and eat my tea
and swear if there’s a fuss.
I’ll lobby politicians
refuse to go in care.
Would they swop their lot for mine?
I shouldn’t think they’d dare.
Getting old is awful
I’m sinking without trace.
My waist is getting thicker.
Deep lines run down my face.
So I’ll slap on lots of make up,
wear silk against my skin
Put some highlights in my hair
and find some sex and sin.
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Ann Perrin 