Fiddler met twiddler on his way to church
fidgeting and diddling, their fingers in a lurch
Fiddle-sticks and Fiddle-faddle stopped to watch and stare
puttering and muttering, one day in autumn’s air
I've become a ruddy thumb twiddler
Checking out the box called “in”
Haven't eaten properly for days and days
Starting to look a little bit thin
Not obsessed with accolades though
The small talk is what I'm missing
Okay I fudged that just a tad wee bit
I do crave the hugging and kissing
But when you really get down to it
We pay for all this smooching
To receive a pant load of happiness
Gotta do a little hoochy cooing
So I'm no longer gonna jazz you
You guy's have nailed me cold
Poetry is second to friendships
Worth more than its weight in gold
© Jack Ellison 2012
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