Email Poem

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Poem

I know I am getting old,
But I have not put making a budget on hold,
And the theory does not leave me cold,
As my marbles point to it being worth its weight in gold

Yet counting marbles I don't own,
  is letting me down,
Making me feel  like a clown,
As I try to get rid of a frown.

I have sought all sorts of advice,
On how to get my head out of this vice, 
So my budget can include some rice,
But all the feedback was not nice.

Maybe counting the number of fingers in my pie is beyond me now,
And predicting which day my bank fees are due,  
  I longer know how,
I even must factor in penalties somehow,
Which has left permanent wrinkles on my brow.

What with that and covid -19 making the cash,
I have managed to stash,
In value, about to crash,
As cards now only way to get some potatoes to mash,
No wonder I am breaking out in a rash.

I had planned to make a lash,
Out of a curtain sash,
To give to my favourite politician in lieu of cash,
But saw some women dressed in leather at his door holding a more expensive  
 lash,
That, suggests my budget blues will not be solved by acting rash,
And I will have to wait til covid -19 has done its dash,
Hoping I am still around with my cash,
When those holding on to plastic will no longer have potatoes to mash,
And my budget blues will be gone in a flash.

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