I frowned at the paper the writing’s too small,
I squeezed my eyes tighter into a ball,
I still couldn’t see the words weren’t clear,
They all jumbled up I felt quite queer.
I think you need glasses said hubby with a smile,
You haven’t been to the opticians for a long while,
Ridiculous I said with a bit of a sneer,
I don’t need glasses I shall persevere.
You’re being too vain there’s lots that will suit,
I will come with you it will be a hoot,
So off to Spcecsavers we went with a roar,
My husband manhandled me through the door.
Tut tut said the optician with a glint in his eye,
It’s glasses for you no need to cry,
The words on the paper will fall into place,
There’s even a chain he said with a straight face.
There’s gold and silver and purple and red,
And all sorts of frames to fit on your head,
Heavily I sighed and tried on a pair,
Not liking the thought of them tangling my hair.
Imagine my glee when the words became clear,
I could see I would have to get over my fear,
I chose designer and asked hubby to pay,
The price on the ticket nearly turned him grey!
The moral of the story is don’t be vain,
Better to have glasses than eye-strain!