A Talk In the Park
I’d been flat out writing poetry for nigh on near a week,
and I felt it’s time to try and clear me head,
so I put the dog upon the leash to walk down near the creek,
where I can feel a touch of nature here instead.
I sat down on a park bench and then let the dog run free,
and watched him scamper up and down the grass,
then I gave a subtle grin when he christened every tree,
as a pair of aging fellows walked on pass.
We gave our curt ‘hello’s before the pair of them sat down,
beside me on a bench to take a rest,
they said that they were living at a centre close to town,
for the invalid and aged they both confessed.
Now their names are Jack and Horry, and neither has a car,
their constitution is to walk here every day,
I asked them where they came from, and how old they are,
Jack was quick to cut in with his say.
Jack mentioned that he’s eighty-three but sprightly no he’s not,
he’s got arthritis, aching back; a touch of gout,
he finds it hard to sleep at night, and he feels he’s lost the plot,
Horry mentioned Jack is buggered without doubt.
So I turned and faced old Horry who is wincing just a mite
and asked him how he’s feeling just by chance,
Horry drawled, “I feel just like a baby”, so I added, “That’s all right” …
“Yep, I have no hair or teeth - and I just wet me pants”.
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