Time is a story. Oh, what a glory!
A minute? I'm agin it.
An hour? Makes me dour.
A second? Has to be reckoned.
A day? In May, tra la.
A month? The man who lisps takes his rifle and "hunths".
A year? Oh, dear!
Time is a story. Oh, what a glory!
I was going through Joan's papers to gather what I need to do her taxes.
I came across an approximate date of her lung surgery. To find the exact date, I got down my 2004 diary. In the back was this poem I wrote while working at the
Wingate Inn. Gave me a chuckle!
No comments:
Post a Comment