CELIA'S POEMS

             No 122  July 17

              I’m sitting here at midnight,

              And cannot go to sleep,

              I wish a poem would come to me,

              Then the benefits you would reap.

              Please don’t tell me to count some sheep,

              It doesn’t work for me,

              When I get as far as 83,

              I think Oh God that’s me.

              I know I’m really ancient,

              But my mind just doesn’t know,

              It’s always working overtime,

              But my body’s gone quite slow.

              It really does annoy me,

              My body won’t do what it’s told,

              I want to do so many things,

              Why had I to get old.

              That’s such a silly statement,

              The alternative’s so clear,

              I couldn’t send this poem to you,

              ‘cause I would not be here,

              A woman’s work is never done,

              And if I’d to come again,

              I think I’d try the other side,

              And come back as a man.

              God thinks the populations far too high,

              He’s cutting it down real quick,

              Just let the men have the babies,

              That would do the trick.

              So as not to upset my male friends,

              It’s just the way I feel,

              But we still love you dearly,

              You just got the better deal.