A man of fifty years or better <br />Approaches the porcelain bowl <br />Looks down to see his feet <br />He must now lean forward at such extreme <br />So as to allow him to see his toes <br />Just his toes <br />And when he does <br />Everything <br />From his chest to his feet <br />Including his knees <br />Are hidden from view <br />By his large and bloated belly <br />This means <br />When he wishes to relieve himself <br />He must take a seat to the methods <br />Once used as a youth <br />Or blindly take aim <br />From memory <br />Complicated too by a shaky hand <br />And a weak stream to fire <br />At what is now <br />A much smaller target than before..... <br /> <br />What with the bad eyes and all..... <br /> <br /> <br />2007 © T Sheridan<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/women-know-that-old-men-have-a-bad-aim/
