She's younger than me
She's just eighty-three
but you'd think she's
a hundred and ten.
She talks of her aches.
She talks of her pains.
Then she tells them all over again.

She wins all the "prizes"..
She likes to advise us
on all the troubles she has
like sun-burning too easy
and how she gets queasy,
flat feet, sinus problems and gas!

She has all of these plus
she's weak in the knees.
Her heart sometimes beats out of time.
The bugs like her better.
She says they all get her.
Her bites swell the size of a dime.
(Actually, a quarter but it didn't rhyme.)

She has trouble sleeping.
She has trouble eating.
Some foods they give her the hives.
To hear when she tells it,
she isn't so well. It's a wonder
she's even alive.

Too healthy am I.
I can't even try
to keep up with the conversation.
The ante's too much.
Her ails I can't touch.
I've not even had operations.

She has, you know, from
her head to her toe.
They've taken out pieces and parts.
She keeps them in jars.
They're never too far
to be shown at a game of hearts.

When she whips out her stones
and pieces of bones,
we just smile and then nod our heads.
She knows she's the winner and
we're just beginners.
"Hey, can't we talk about
the weather instead?"

As the sun moves to the western horizon
Colors are skilfully blended in a palette
In an instant the sky becomes an exquisite canvas of art
Making even Van Gogh burn in jealousy

With the last glimmer of sunset
When the shadows chase the light,
The aerial folks fly back to their nests
Like black and white specks dotting the sky

With a dark drape stretched across the Earth’s face
The arrival of the night is a spectacular sight
Cicadas and crickets welcome her with their ceremonious band
And street lamps blink their eyes to catch a better view

While truant clouds still wander around aimless
The cerulean sky signals them to hurry
Stars slowly appear in the night sky
Like sequins stitched on to a blue brocade

The crescent moon smiles down
The empress of the night, proud and regal
She and her retinue keep guard over the slumbering Earth
The unpaid sentries of the night!

A gentle breeze makes a palanquin ride
Wafting in the scent of opening buds
The beauty of the night sends me to raptures
My heart exploding like foaming wine in a bottle

Yet I cannot but keep wondering
How many dark secrets
The night holds
Within her tenebrous folds!