Oft come days when invariably it seems,
As if I'm simply whipping a dead horse.
Feet touching floor bring muted Gout screams,
Heard above my popping joints of course.
Yesterday's greeting was my birthday song,
Vocalized by a very special friend of mine.
The neighbors house burning, didn't take long,
But conveyed a message, that my day was fine.
Until sis Norma called, (who suspects I'm a flake)
With pertinent information to gladly share.
She said the 74 candles on my birthday cake,
(Not burning house) caused smoke to fill the air.