By Denver E. Stull © 1987
Issue: November, 1987
These rainy days I am reminded of
Grandma complaining of her aches and pain,
While rubbing liniment on aching joints,
And saying how she thought it soon would rain.
And I remember how she often looked
For glasses she had pushed back on her brow,
Or searched for things that she just knew was there,
That always seemed to get away somehow.
Now I've grown old and, like Grandma, my bones
Prognosticate foul weather and Bengay
Subdues the odor of my after shave
While nothing's ever found I put away.