Tradional fairground ride

                  CHANGING PLACES 

The wise woman rises early,
Stepping into clean, fresh clothes,
Pulling on her lovely crease-free trousers,
Her unwrinkled Tee clinging neatly to her shoulders,
Her shoes so sparkling clean and pretty,
Even the flowers admire them.
‘Bye!’ calls the wise woman,
As she goes singing on her way,
Everyone making room for her.

 The tired woman rises far too late,
That extra five minutes somehow getting away from her.
And look! The clothes fairy hasn’t come
So she wears crumpled Tee and wrinkled trousers.
Her shoes so dusty and dull
Even the flowers try to hide them.
No ‘Bye!’ from this tired woman,
As she goes yawning on her way.
But the wise woman makes room for her,
For tired tomorrow, wise today.

                                                    © Gwen Grant

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