THE POET AND HIS MUSE
Do I now grow old
’Cause I wear my trousers rolled
and high
Walking upon the beach
Bringing from home a favoured peach
Forgoing the expensive icecream van
And my handkerchiefed head a tan
Fearing the water’s childish laughs
’Cause wisdom warns me of the sharks
Do I now grow old
My muse to amuse
So by way of ruse
I dance upon the beach
My trousers rolled?
Apologies to Eliot
Comments
beautiful poetry.., wisdom with a sprinkle of mirth.
You are being kind again Lisa. Thank you.
– John O'Dal
I’m sure he would approve John…dance upon the beach!
Sandra
Thank you again Sandra.
– John O'Dal
:o)
ohhh . . . love this.