'God you're grey! '
My rival said.
(I'd taken his favourite
Girl to bed) .
'Not only grey,
You're very fat! '
I shrugged my shoulders,
That was that.
But later on
That selfsame day,
I thought of LOTS
Of things to say
That were so clever;
Much too late!
My only solace now
My hate.
That's no solace,
But you see
I've never been good
At repartee.
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! I love this LOTS! Words, thought, attitude, action... As for repartee, same thing here: so often, the right words, the PERFECT words, come minutes/hours too late. I think, however, you're one up on him anyway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Quite a uhm er, clever little poem. -chuck