
Midnight Minuet
Sneaking down the unlit hall,
we take turns answering nature’s call,
awaiting our own turn to sneak
to the john to have a leak.
In the darkness, we repeat
this rather tricky hourly feat.
Him, then her, then me at last.
So are our nightly ramblings cast.
It is not choice that brings us here
to void ourselves of pop or beer.
In fact, a full night’s sleep we seek—
our intentions strong, but bladders weak.
At eleven, twelve and one and two,
sleeping is what we’d rather do.
Instead, we do-si-do—just missing
the next sojourner bent on pissing!
This poem is dedicated to all of those over sixty who find themselves taking more nightly journeys down the hall than in the past. Perhaps, like me, you are a houseguest. If so, there is no avoiding the nocturnal shuffle if your hosts, like you, are of a certain age.
I grok this. Oh, and nice photo.
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Every hour? I hope you’re exaggerating…
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Not by much, Jane!!!
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So that’s what I have coming to me – I only ever get up once in the night at the moment…
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I don’t get up that often at home. Must be something in the water here, or the power of suggestion.
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I’m always worse when I’m away – I thought it was because I don’t sleep so heavily, so my system’s working faster – or because I’m not quite at ease.
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Doing a little “catch-up” reading this morning and just thought I’d add a bit of special insight to this verse. Chemo-therapy REALLY does a number on one’s bladder. The length of time you have to take that walk is considerably shortened during the week following treatment. 😦
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I hope that will change? I don’t think we need any acceleration of the process, do you?
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No, I don’t think so. Losing thirty pounds would likely help. 😦
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