Sliding Into Home

Ninety two years
Ninety five pounds
Banged-up hide
Brain well fried
Sliding into Home
Completely used-up
Fully spent, wrung-out
Nothing left to give...

Except that wicked sense of humor
Good to the last drop
(Maybe the Maxwell [House] part of mom?)
I can hear her thought:

"I decide! 
Just past midnight January 31 makes it February. 
So THERE!
Take THAT, January!"


What she had against January I'll never know.