Waist

Girth,
at birth,
was slender,
and fragile tender,
like stem,
when youth rammed,
with strength in jammed,
like a storing pot,
when began the middle rot,
as the middle advanced to higher ages,
the pot hung,
as if it was another storey and rung,
now at the death all appears waste,
as badly hung and bowed is my waist.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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