Slowly I get up, slowly I sit,

No sound, the zero power bulb I unlit,
As slowly as I can,
How can one run slow, shit!
But at this old age one manages it,
The old man wants me at mid night,
And I had promised all right, all right,
An age in that love is no more beauty,
Merely a habit or just a duty.
Slowly I feel, slowly I enjoy,
The age of play has gone,
Still we need a toy!

Leave a Reply