Spots on me: a rhyme about the passage of time

By Wanda LaneSpecial to The Sun City Packet

From here to there, from there to hereMy old age spots are everywhere.

That spot is old. That spot is new.What's a person like me to do?

Some of my spots are very high.But here is one upon my thigh.

My spots grow big. My spots growsmall.My spots grow anywhere at all.

All of my spots are quite unique,But make me feel like an old antique.

My spots are brown and tan and red.At times, I won't get out of bed.

From day to day the numbers grow. It seems to me they overflow.

You can compare your spots to mine.But, alas, you have only nine.

Is there a cure for spots all over?There must be one I can discover.

I'll ask my friends about a spa.I'll be spotless. Hurrah, hurrah!

To the esthetician I say:"I truly cannot look this way."

Tell me, tell me, what I must doI only want to look brand new.

Oh, madam, I must tell you true,There is no way we can help you.

You must go now. You cannot stay.You mustn't scare others away.

Next, to the doctor I did go.Fast, fast, fast not slow, slow, slow.

My doctor said my skin did spoilBecause of sun and baby oil.

This damage I cannot repair.But please, don't be in great despair.

Well, that is that. My spots will stay.I guess that I will be O.K.

Perhaps it's good if my spots do stay.Friends can recognize me this way.

But if I'm honest, if I'm true,What I'd really like to do

Is give all my spots to you

Wanda Lane (a.k.a Mrs. Seuss) lives in Sun City Hilton Head.