Logged on

Sister’s on the patio
listening to the radio
with a croissant in her
hand.

The week has been and gone
the sun has shone
my hair is whiter
I put weight on
hence no lighter
but
it’s Saturday.

We run and hide
from the fools outside,
just
different ideas of freedom.

I found another line
one more wrinkle
and look upon it as
a sprinkling of age.

oh
and I didn’t win the lottery
it seems
the jackpot’s not for me,

but the real wealth is
in her eyes
as she wakes.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.