In old age
all good people
end up
living in a pound
good doggies
waiting
to be put down
at the lost and found.
Sad, but true. I guess there was a time when we took care of our aging population with more compassion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, Vince, sadly, whether good or otherwise; but at least my pound is in a glorious piece of countryside freed of social rictus! Rgds, Ivan