My friend had miles of highway
‘Til
she’d reach her new abode
So
she needed to be up and out
Before
a rooster crowed.
To
help her get an early start
And
not be somehow slowed,
She
went to bed already dressed
In
all-out travel mode.
I
heard about this plan of hers
And
my confusion showed.
I
told her she’d be wrinkled
And
her laughter freely flowed.
I
guess no matter what we wear,
We
share a certain code,
For
age has guaranteed we’re always
Wrinkled
on the road.
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