The Beetles

The Beetles I will now write a love poem and will include heart, souls, roses and a box of chocolate with nuts inside but a song by the Beetles keeps getting in the way “Will you love me as before when I`m sixty-four?” It was in Tokyo when heard the song I was visiting a girlfriend who was a stewardess on a liner, the song said it all. A few days later I met a cook smelling of booze and underarm sweat, he told me my girlfriend had a lover on the ship a steward, I confronted the man we had a fight and I was thrown ashore. She had stolen my heart, but I had the song; so I will not write this love story after all, perhaps tell you a story of Frieda, who collected monkey poo, kept them in glass bottles and inhaled the scent but she produced wonderful paintings.