Whimsicality
She had a face like a fish fryer's basket,
All stressed and creased and lined
His like a bag of old spanners
Abused, misused, misaligned.
She jumped his place in the bar queue
One Boozy Saturday Night
Instead of taking the Hump
He loved her at first sight.
Two aging hippies
Who’d never ever bricked it
And when they met each other
Felt they’d really clicked it
They consummated their relationship
In the yard outside the bar
And once or twice more
On the back seat of his car.
They came down to earth together
Laughing at life’s little joke
Then he pulled out his baccy pouch
And rolled them both a toke.
Two ageing hippies who
Quickly grabbed the chance
To waltz their way together
Through life’s oncertain dance
They became a couple
Saw each other more and more
And when they looked at each other
It was only beauty that each saw,
With her face like a fish fryer’s basket
All stressed and creased and lined,
His like a bag of old spanners
Abused, misused, misaligned
Copyright © Terry Ireland | Year Posted 2023
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