Poetry Sunday

Anyone else have this issue?

My body’s an accordion
 Never in its case
 Sometimes it’s big
 Sometimes it’s small
 Never taking the same space
 I wish I were a cello
 Or a lithe violin
 The clothes would need
 To be but one size
 For my body to fit in
 But nope…I am a squeeze box
 That holds a note each time
 Until I work to
 Morph again
 Much harder past my prime
 So once more I’ll push the air out
 And make my size contract
 And know my waist
 Will change once more
 To make it more compact
 If only I could linger
 and maintain a constant weight
 but my body seems
 to love the game
 and won’t cooperate.
  
  
  
   

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