The Pleasure of Old Age

The pleasure of old age This is good morning only been up twice in the night and not Stumbled over furniture, his wife kept filling the house with Unwanted things. When he protest she says he lacks artistic sense. A good morning because he was able to empty his bladder Without sounding like a cat on a hot tin roof - yes I know- Whoever when young thought of the simple Act of evacuation? The pleasure it is to do so without using A suppository, the simple enjoyment of the thriving completed. There is, especially when old, a certain sexual pleasure of A body that functions, it can so easily go wrong, that extra Glass of whisky, a glass of wine one should have left Untouched on the table, with a cloth clean as a cerulean sky. Today he would only have soup for Lunch and no red wine. Better be on the safe and alive. But there are moments he Thinks “what does it matters you are dying anyway; silly man.” God didn’t give you extra time to read slimming magazines But to be a connoisseur of Portuguese red wine, that is mild as Spring and dreamy as a horse chewing hay in his stable when It rains and the farmer has gone to Sunday mass.