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Image for post
Photo by Terrye Turpin

When I grow old, I’ll live in a hotel.

I’ll go to Happy Hour

And drink flat beer in plastic cups.

I’ll lift a toast

With sour red wine from a box.

My hotel will serve waffles for breakfast,

And hot dogs for dinner.

I’ll go to my room and jump on the bed.

I’ll ask for extra pillows and blankets

And use them to make a fort.

I’ll take a bubble bath with all the shampoo,

And have the empty bottles as ships in my tub.

I’ll cook microwave popcorn at 3:00 a.m.

And brew coffee in the afternoon.

I’ll carve the soap bars into little animals,

And fold the towels like origami flowers.

I’ll ask for a hundred washcloths,

To cover the floor like snow.

I’ll turn up the radio

And dance like a rock star.

I’ll pick up the trash for the maid,

But leave the sheets on the floor.

When I live in a hotel

I’ll ask for turndown service,

And then I’ll always have

Someone to tuck me in at night.

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