Saturday, 4 November 2017

Becoming Over Ripe.

One day in idle reverie
I found myself to be
Upon a sunny, palm-fringed beach
Set in a sun-kissed sea

When all at once some native girls
Came running up to me
With bronzèd thighs and sultry eyes
And charms for all to see

And as they smiled I lay beguiled
But had to be so bold
To hesitate and tell them straight
‘I’m sorry, I’m too old’

It’s cold in my house tonight. It’s cold outside my house tonight. I expect there to be ice on the birds’ water bowl tomorrow morning.

And so I had my first mug of hot chocolate since the end of last winter, and wondered whether hot chocolate is the sole compensation when life is demonstrating that humans are not so different than fruit when they’re past their best.

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