The coo-coo clock reminds me
I am growing old
The shoes on my feet wobble
though I swim in them as told.
The dentures in my mouth
whistle a wobbly tune.
My pockets seem inside out.
My love-call sounds like a boom.
Could you settle for a date
with a prune that needs to be stewed
before he can let himself go
out to the world and be rude?
I make fun of myself to think
of all those yesteryears donged.
When my hands flew off the clock
and I forgot that I was wronged.
It happened once only
when we crawled into bed for a feel.
Expecting less than nothing.
But O O O YOU ARE REAL !