“You’ve had your bath; your teeth are brushed.
You’ve donned your favorite nightgown.
Our bedtime reading should never be rushed.
So get your books, come, and sit yourself down.”

With that the four-year-old girl, happy and all
squeaky clean, still slightly damp from her bath,
snuggles next to her mother’s warmth and crawls
inside this wondrous place, unaware of Time’s wrath.

Years pass…

“Hi, Mother. Sorry, I worked late. Have no time!
I need to rush. I see they’ve already given you
a bath, put on your favorite nightgown. That’s fine.
Can’t read to you tonight - next visit I’ll try to.”

With that the forty-four-year-old daughter
hurries from the nursing home, now aware fully
of Time’s wrath. Her mother thinks “I ought to
ask the staff to read me my newspaper comics daily.”