Could only take ten minutes in the sun.
I’m old enough to know when my skin’s done.
And then, there were the ants,
and me, out in short pants.
All I could do was sing the blues,
and shoo them with my flip-flop shoes.
The outdoors is driving me inside.
Indoors, with cats, I easily abide.
It takes one bad burn to wake.
And I know my skin won’t flake.
The steeper the grade,
the more one needs shade.
Those little round age spots
are all solar made.
Go inside and dream a lake.
Read, write, rest and maybe bake.