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”.