predicts the glossy mag’s theme
and through plastic faces
indulgent seniors beam
and brag of lusty trysts
in distant places.
Clad in a tie-dyed floor-length T,
doubling as dress or nightie,
sans sucks, tucks or peels
I wonder who
let the air out of my arms,
brought my thighs to my knees,
and moved my fanny fat to tummy.
An all-day smile is not my way,
sometimes hateful thoughts
spill blithely from my lips.
I’m just darned grateful
to still have my birth day hips.
Fractal created in Fractal Explorer
Sunday Scribblings Prompt: Now and Then