The Last Walk Poem by Jerry Behr Number 2

I awoke in the morning,
I could hear the chorus
of birds outside,
I got dressed.

Had some breakfast,
and a coffee,
switched on the TV
listened to the news.

I had an overwhelming
desire to go for a walk,
the sun was streaming
through the kitchen window.

How strange, usually I liked
walking during the evening,
in the dancing night where
I can rummage with my thoughts.

As I opened the door
I was greeted by the calls
from some currawongs,
and felt the fresh morning breeze.

I walked up the road,
I noticed my neighbors
I minded my own business
they did their business.

Strange, usually when I
go for a walk in the evening,
my hip is so sore from arthritis,
sometimes its even painful.

However, this morning it doesn't
hurt, so I'll just enjoy
my walk in the Australian
morning sunshine.

While I was walking a
young women walked at
the same speed,
and walked beside me.

She was very pretty,
I did a silent laugh inside of me,
she is very distracting,
I love rummaging with my own thoughts.

I'm a poet yet I dare not say anything
to her, I'm after all, an old bloke
yet she smiles at me,
she is indeed very distracting.

Rummage, rummage, rummage,
I love rummaging for words,
it is what I did my whole
life long, rummaging for words.

Oh crumbs, I forgot my pills;
Then again my hip doesn't hurt,
so who needs them,
she's very enchanting.

At my age its pointless
talking to such a pretty
young women all I can do
is window shopping.

Yes that's it!
I'll marry her in the next dimension;
She's very, very mesmerizing;
I cant do rummaging anymore.

There is a saying 'Age shall weary them,
and years condemn' I don't feel
any of that, nor do I feel tired
and my hip doesn't hurt.

I've made some mistakes in life,
and asked Jesus for his forgiveness.
In poetry I've sailed the
psychological seven seas.

How long have we
been walking for?
I don't know, I don't feel like
going home, she's very distracting.

I'll just keep on walking on,
with her, I feel a certain peace;
I think it is time to give
the psychological seven seas a rest.

Away from pointing the finger,
the recriminations.
It came with the years.
The currawongs are calling me