Pre-MENOPAUSAL LAMENT

casey jump color

A mid-life poem

by Donna Earnhardt

I can’t grow cukes or carrots,
No ‘maters, beans or peas.
But leg hair? Got it covered. It grows with endless ease.

I can’t grow golden corn stalks.
And taters? No, not one.
But chin hair growing season? It’s never, ever done.

Toe hair? Yeah. It’s rampant.
My feet are hobbit-esque.
Still…my toes are toasty,
Even if they are grotesque.

I have the hairy version
of the Midas touch. It’s true.
Which means I make a kick-butt pot
of chicken mullet stew!

I digress– I’m sorry.
I must get back to work.

My crop of locks needs shearing…

Before I go berserk!!

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