Our walking sticks are ‘his’ and ‘hers’.
We synchronise our dribble.
Hobbling and wobbling,
We moan and groan and quibble.
And thus we’ve lived our married life,
Together side by side.
Through good and bad and thick and thin,
Though now we’re rather wide.
My memory is perfect
They call me the recall king.
My grasp of detail,
Makes lesser minds quail.
I can’t remember forgetting a thing.
You bite your tongue,
And swallow your pride,
The weight of the world on each shoulder.
While you walk the walk,
And talk the talk,
Each day your hair gets older.
You smell the roses,
And pull a leg,
But you’ll face the music one day.
Put your best foot forward
Fall head-over-heels,
But play it by ear anyway.
So pull your head in,
Out of the cloud,
Stick your neck out,
You’ll see eye-to-eye.
Let your hair down
And keep your fingers crossed.
Or wave it all goodbye.
They sat in the lounge room,
And stared at their phones.
Till all turned to dust,
And a pile of bones.
The ditty traipsed along my tongue,
Its head hung limp and low.
It tried its best
To make a jest,
But knew it was all show.
It once was almost classic.
Shakespearean in style.
Now old and tired
In grumbling mired,
It lacks all zeal and guile.
And thus it ends another day,
Spreadeagled on my lip.
Just a ghost
Once foremost.
Before it lost its grip.
Never put your feet in shoes
Lest lizards got there first.
And never go where waters ooze,
The crocodiles are worst.
Avoid all modern lavatories
For rats come through the pipes,
There are very many stories
Of these ghastly toothy types.
It’s best to stay in bed all day,
For there you can be sure,
As long as spiders stay away,
Your life will be secure.
I’ve had a happy childhood,
Where giggles and laughter were rife.
It was perfect,
But needs to be understood,
That it came rather late in life.
My feet are known to wander.
And often now I find,
Odd sorts of thoughts
And brain reports
Go ambling through my mind.
It makes it hard to sleep,
When my feet are on the prowl.
That moon that’s round
Can make feet sound
Exactly like a howl.
An English mangler
Grammar strangler,
Speaked and writ appalling.
A diction laze
He’ll change his ways
When Editor comes calling.
