Marmalade Crumpets On A Sunday Morning Poem by Paula Glynn

Indulging in marmalade on crumpets,
Every Sunday morning,
Wakes me right up,
And keeps me from yawning,
That sweet marmalade,
Heaven to the senses,
Has me utterly defenceless,
For marmalade cannot be ignored,

Even for those older people,
Who are often ignored;
But offer them a crumpet,
Slathered in marmalade,
Just as Paddington Bear,
And they're your friend for life.

The elderly gentlemen,
With a twinkle in his eye,
For that lady next to him - me
May be old,
But I am very much wise,
Looking at my life,
As a young person,
Where I had self respect and much pride,

But still here, older though as I am,
Can indulge my appetite,
With a marmalade crumpet,
Being on my waistline,
That I never need to hide,
A woman of the older generation,
Wise, moving with the world,

Even though in residential care,
But I still have spunk to him,
And my love with him I do share,
As we sit down together,
Eating a marmalade crumpet,
On every Sunday that comes around,

And every Sunday we celebrate,
Our love so recently found,
And our memories of Paddington Bear,
That childhood classic,
That entertained the world,
With his mistakes,
Eating marmalade,
Without a care,

And we remember watching him,
Having to wash his clothing,
That turned pink,
As Paddington Bear did not think,
And all in the residential home,
Laugh at that childhood classic,
Our laughter joining in,
The films played hundreds of times,
To afterwards sit together,
With the raining weather,

Enjoying a marmalade crumpet,
Celebrating our lives,
And our loves,
And our children.

Paddington Bear,
So cute and funny,
When he tries to care,
And we liken Paddington,
Our special memories,
As we become so much older,
But never, ever, colder,
Bitterness non-existent.

Two old people happy,
As we sit at the table,
Two crumpets slathered in marmalade,
Another Sunday morning,
To cease the yawning,
And wake to a brand new day.