Joys of age and youth by Clive La Pensée

 My wife has bought me a bathmat.

Sometimes one needs a metaphor. Casting out an item is old age. Buying a replacement is importing youth.

Both provide a moment to reflect.


My wife has bought me a bathmat.

The old one was weary but shrewd.

Cuddled my feet where it counted

And laughed not when I'm in the nude.



The colour, grey and most faded.

The edges had long lost their way.

They flowed in every direction.

The stitching no longer held sway.

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