Why didn't I listen to Mother
She warned me that I would regret
Not cleansing and toning each morning
And sharing her moisture duet
My skin then all peachy and perfect
I had no desire for regime
Besides, with a queue for the bathroom
I'd rush in and out in a dream
There was the odd line in my forties,
That laughter had brought to my face,
But nothing that couldn't be hidden,
With pancake rubbed over in haste.
I had to admit after fifty,
The peach was beginning to flag,
A crêpeness under the cheekbones
And eyes that were tending to bag.
A remedy needed detecting,
A beautician was sought for advice,
And boy did it cost me a packet,
But I'd try it, whatever the price.
I've followed the rules to the letter,
Stroked up when I've rubbed in the cream,
Laid cucumber over the eyelids,
And soaked in a bath for the steam.
But it's not made a blind bit of difference,
The lines and the bags just won't shift -
Oh Mother if only I'd listened…
There'd be no need to have this facelift!
© 2016 Yeadon Writers
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