Wrinkled On the Road
My friend had miles of highway
‘Til she’d reach her new abode
So she needed to be up and out
Before a rooster crowed.
To help her get an early start
And not be somehow slowed,
She went to bed already dressed
In all-out travel mode.
I heard about this plan of hers
And my confusion showed.
I told her she’d be wrinkled
And her laughter freely flowed.
I guess no matter what we wear,
We share a certain code,
For age has guaranteed we’re always
Wrinkled on the road.
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