I’m sure we have all had mornings where it feels like this. Expectations meet reality.
When you wake up one morning
and you simply cannot wear
the Wonderwoman bodice.
Even though there is a springtime
balminess in the morning air
it's not a day for
Spiderman springs to your step.
More like dangling
from a thead.
Some mornings you wake up
and you'll never be anyone
out of a Marvel comic.
There'll never be enough hulk
in your bulk, or iron.
There's more shuffle than hustle,
even though truth,
not to mention justice,
are still locked in their eternal tussle.
When you get up some mornings
and make your cup of tea,
open the window, feeling the draught
against your pygama's fleece,
and know you are quite puny, small,
not made with balls of iron at all.
That's the day I feel grateful
for the comfy elasticated waist
on the capacious Big Girl pants I don.
Copyright © 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.