Roll With The Changes

.

I cook spaghetti in a pan too small. 

I wear ten percent of my clothes. 

I’ve started saving paper bags―

who knows where this goes?

.

Maybe I’ll end up old―

supposedly it happens a lot.

I’ll know then, perhaps over soup,

what I am and am not.

.

Meanwhile, I’ll be in my garden

with my fingers deep in the dirt.

I’ll be alright, I guess―

if I could find my favorite shirt.